


The Size of The Fight

by veritas_st



Series: The Size of the Fight [1]
Category: Suits - Fandom
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 22:05:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 32,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10795674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: They started off as underground, dubiously legal fighting rings, dark doorways in even darker alleys with brick shit houses for bouncers and invites only (hell, maybe even passwords or special handshakes, but Harvey never went so he doesn’t know for sure). They moved on from there, to slightly better lit alleys and no one really remembers how they became part of normal every day life but Harvey hates the fact that a bill somehow got through that made the fighters second class citizens, essentially property for the Owners.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on LiveJournal in 2011. It's one of my favourites that I have written. I hope you enjoy.

Harvey loves his job. He loves the thrill of a good argument, the extra thrill of a good argument well won. He loves the money, the power that comes with it, and also comes with being the best closer in the city. 

This part however, this is the part of the job Harvey hates. Because he may be a ruthless bastard who cares about nothing but money, power and a good suit but even he knows that having some kind of sick, antiquated Gladiator contest as part of normal life is, well, sick and antiquated. 

They started off as underground, dubiously legal fighting rings, dark doorways in even darker alleys with brick shit houses for bouncers and invites only (hell, maybe even passwords or special handshakes, but Harvey never went so he doesn’t know for sure). They moved on from there, to slightly better lit alleys and no one really remembers how they became part of normal every day life but Harvey hates the fact that a bill somehow got through that made the fighters second class citizens, essentially property for the Owners. They became the Indentured, owned by people with more money but less sense than Harvey. Treated like dirt because they had no rights. 

No one should have that kind of power over anyone. 

A lot of the clients of Pearson Hardman use the fights as entertainment for their Lawyers and Jessica hates them even more than Harvey does, if that’s possible. Actually that’s maybe not strictly true, Harvey’s just better at hiding his contempt for the owners than Jessica is and always makes Harvey go, and he can generally block out the noises of bones being broken and blood hitting the floors, teeth being knocked out and the grunts and groans of the fighters. However, tonight he can’t seem to take his eyes off the lithe dirty blond haired kid fighting possibly the biggest man Harvey has ever seen in his life. It’s not the first time he’s seen him, but for some reason it’s the first time he’s really caught Harvey’s attention. 

The kids fast, Harvey will give him that, quick on his feet, nimble as he spins out of the big guys reach. And the big guy is slow, which is probably why the kid has managed to get in a few solid punches before dancing away again, but Harvey is pretty sure this is going to end up one way, and one way only. That’s why he stands with the rest of the crowd when the kid launches himself at the big guys back, gets him in a sleeper hold and holds on for dear life, taking one or two swats to the ribs before the big guys falls, slowly, to his knees, then face plants the floor. The kid stands, places one well aimed kick to the guys ribs and runs his forearm across his nose, there’s a streak of red on his skin when he pulls it back down and Harvey feels a very familiar stab of anger at the asshole who put the fucking bill through that allowed this barbaric custom. The Umpire lifts the kids small, thin arm, practically wrenches it out of the socket and the crowd goes nuts, Harvey can hardly hear himself think as he keeps his eyes on the kids face. Its strangely blank, there are bruises on his skin but that’s normal, its not like the fighters, more often than not Indentured, are particularly well looked after, but what surprises Harvey is the fact that even from this distance he can see the kids blue eyes. They’re dead though, nothing going on behind them as the Umpire spins them both around and the kid is walked off stage, limping slightly and clutching his side.

“That’s the Rookie,” Tom Stanton, the incredibly wealthy Real Estate mogul, and Pearson Hardman’s client, says as he leans closer to Harvey. Harvey nods noncommittally as he catches a glimpse of the other fighters backstage, clapping the kid on the shoulder before he’s swallowed up by the crowd, readying for the next fight. “He’s Jim’s best fighter.” 

Jim Cleaver, the irony of the surname isn’t lost of Harvey, is one of New York’s dirtiest fighter owners. Not only does he own them, which Harvey finds detestable (it’s one thing hiring them like employees when they’re down on their luck but actually owning them is another), but he treats them worse than dogs and more than once Harvey has seen his name dragged through the dirt, tabloids baying for his blood before some clever lawyer spins it and everyone’s suddenly happy again. 

“His best?” Harvey asks, because he’s honestly surprised, the kid can’t be more than twenty four which gives him the upper hand on being young and fit, but he’s also small, underfed and untrained. Tom nods, not taking his eyes off the two new fighters in the ring sizing each other up. 

“Yeah,” he says, “relatively new I think, but he’s won every fight so far,” he finishes, cheering with the rest of the crowd as the fighters start. 

Harvey feels suddenly sick, the heat from the arena is oppressive and he runs a finger around his collar, hoping that this fight, the last of the evening, will be over quickly so he can go home and get drunk and try to forget he was ever here. Try to forget the young kid with bright blue eyes. 

…

 

Turns out it is over quickly and Harvey doesn’t think all the alcohol in the world will make him forget the noise of the fighter’s neck snapping. 

They had all been ushered out, quickly, taken to the VIP room and plied with champagne, as if there was something to celebrate about some poor kid who’d made bad choices ending up dying at the hands of some other kid who made equally bad choices. It was sickening, worse that most people don’t even batter an eyelid at the ending of a life, and the champagne swills around Harvey’s stomach like its taking as much offence to the whole thing as Harvey is. 

“Tom,” Jim shouts across the room, holding his large arms out and smiling and Harvey feels the stem of the champagne flute crack under his hand, “damn good to see you.” Jim envelopes Tom in a hug with fat, meaty arms. 

“Shame about the kid, Jim,” Tom says, sounding genuinely concerned and Jim shrugs his massive shoulders and glances at Harvey. 

“It happens,” he says and Harvey has to count to ten in his head to stop himself from punching the bastard in the face. 

“Jim, this is Harvey Specter, of Pearson Hardman,” Tim gestures towards him and Harvey nods and ignores Jim’s hand for as long as possible. 

“Lawyer hey, not come here to try and get my fighters free have you, like all the other bleeding heart liberals who come around here,” Jim says with a laugh and Tom squirms slightly. 

“If you were breaking the law, Mr Cleaver, believe me, I would have you locked up as soon as look at you. But sadly, what you are doing is legal, so I have to keep my contempt quiet, and to myself,” Harvey says and watches with pleasure as the vein in Jim’s forehead throbs slightly, “good evening, Mr Cleaver,” he finishes, nods his head politely and backs away. He corners a waiter and demands whiskey, throws it down his neck as it’s pushed in front of him a few minutes later. It does little to calm his anger. 

…

 

He’s still seething an hour, and three more whiskeys, later as Tom comes sheepishly up to the bar and plants himself next to Harvey. Harvey’s got nothing against the guy per se, perhaps his choice of entertainment and his lack of personal space, the guy always stands so close, but Harvey really wants to be alone with his anger right now. 

“Sorry about Jim,” he says and Harvey shrugs in an incredibly unlike him manner, “he gets protective over his fighters,” Tom finishes, swallowing the last of his champagne and waving the glass in the bartenders face. 

“I’d probably get that way about my _property_ too,” Harvey says, slamming his glass down on the bar and spinning around to survey the room, “except I don’t own human beings, Tom,” he says and Tom flinches slightly. Its their age old argument, Tom is aware of how Harvey feels, more than aware of how Jessica feels, but he still invites them every time and Harvey still has to go, begrudgingly. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” a pretty young girl dressed in a tiny outfit that is meant to be smart and sexy but comes across as tacky and crude, raises her voice above the crowd, “please welcome your entertainment for the evening,” she steps to the side and the doors open, revealing the fighters, freshly showered, makeup no doubt hiding the more prominent bruises and cuts and a excited murmur goes through the collected guests. Tom pushes himself off the bar and pushes his way through the sea of people and Harvey groans, turns back to the bar and orders another whiskey. Tom’s paying for it, he might as well try to enjoy himself at least a little. 

Jim does this every time he hosts a fight. Brings out his fighters after the events to entertain, even gives them to high betting guests for the right price for the night and the whole thing makes Harvey sick. Not only are they fighting, for their lives in some cases, as the kid tonight showed, but they are then prostituted out for the night to people who care little about their welfare and even less about their wellbeing. Harvey may be a hard hitting corporate lawyer, a take no prisoners kind of guy, one who many people distrust after the first second of meeting him, and he himself may have made many bad decisions in his life, staying longer than necessary at the DA’s office before moving back to Jessica being high on his list, but even he can see the wrongness of this life, the sheer deplorability of the whole thing. He turns back to the crowd, to see Tom running his fingers down the young girls arm. She is no doubt owned by Jim as well, Jim doesn’t just own male fighters, and she simpers, flutters her eyelashes at Tom and Harvey rolls his eyes. He spots the kid from earlier across the room, a small butterfly stitch across his eyebrow and a badly disguised bruise forming on his cheek bone and Harvey’s fingers twitch around his glass. He’s talking to Jim and it’s the most emotion Harvey has seen from him since he stepped into the ring. He says something that makes Jim look like he’s about to choke and Jim pulls his arm back and backhands the kid across the already bruised cheek bone and Harvey is moving before his mind has caught up with his body. 

“You going to give him a free shot at your face Jim?” Harvey asks, sliding up to him and the kid blinks at him. Jim spins, fixes a glare at Harvey. 

“Got a big mouth this one, forgets who owns him, sometimes he needs to be reminded,” Jim says and Harvey snorts, swirling the whiskey around in the glass as the kid continues to stare at him with blank eyes. 

“Just doesn’t seem fair, is all,” Harvey says and Jim’s eyes narrow, “to beat on a kid when you know they have no option but to take it. I wonder how brave you would be if he could fight back.” 

The kid narrows his eyes too and Harvey knows that he’s just made it worse for him, that Jim will find a way to make this his fault and take it out on him and there will be bruises on his skin tomorrow that didn’t come from fighting the huge beast of a man earlier. 

“None of your business, Specter,” Jim snaps and Harvey snorts again. 

“Well it is actually, because I don’t want you damaging my potential property,” Harvey says and wants to slap himself, or rewind time because honestly, he’s never ever contemplated owning anyone, let alone a kid who looks like he wants to kill him right now and he’s not entirely sure why he feels the need to try and protect him. 

Jim’s eyes widen, almost comically, and then narrow again, shrinking down to little piggy eyes as he glares up at him. 

“Your potential property?” Jim parrots incredulously and the kid’s hands clench by his sides, the bruise on his cheek worse than it was two minutes ago, a red mark against otherwise pale skin. He’s quiet, but Harvey can see the way he bites on the inside of his cheek, probably learnt the hard way that talking back is punishable, even if just now he broke his own rule, and Harvey can also see defiance burning in his eyes as he stares at Harvey. 

“Thinking about taking him off your hands,” Harvey says, staring at the whiskey in his glass and swirling it again, feigning indifference. Jim snorts, curls his fingers around the kids arm and the kid twitches slightly like he wants to pull away. 

“What makes you think I would give him to you?” Jim snaps, tugging him closer, “This one’s earned me a hell of a lot of cash since I took him on,” a flicker of disgust travels across the kids face as Jim gives his arm a slight squeeze, his fingers trailing over his skin as he lets him go and the kid takes an almost step away from him, not enough to be noticed by Jim but enough that Harvey picks it up. He’s still glaring at Harvey though and Harvey knows that if he doesn’t win this, the kid is going to be paying the price as soon as Harvey leaves tonight. 

“I said nothing about you giving him to me. I am going to give you more cash than he will ever earn you,” Harvey says and he can hear Jessica berating him in his head for this tomorrow morning, “I mean look at him, Cleaver, its not like he’s going to last long. Looks almost dead on his feet already,” Harvey says, looking the kid up and down. He shifts under Harvey’s gaze, but defiance still burns in his blue eyes as he glares with barely concealed anger back at him, “and to be honest, he’s exactly my type,” Harvey adds, leaning forward slightly and letting his eye rove over the kid’s body, and it’s all for show but it helps Harvey pick up on just how lithe the kid is. 

Cleaver looks at him, narrows his eyes even more as he obviously tries to work out if Harvey is taking him for a ride or not. Technically its illegal to sell an Indentured if you know they aren’t going to be used for their purpose, which is generally fighting, although there are also Indentured used and sold for general “household activities”, Cleaver knows that, but if he thinks Harvey is willing to break the law then Jim will help him do it, and Harvey has to stand his ground with this angle if he’s going to win this. Harvey licks his lips, his eyes still locked on the kid and Cleaver seems to be placated that Harvey’s not joking around right now. Harvey himself, feels sick at the thought that Cleaver now thinks he’s some kind of deviant. 

Something in Harvey wants to help with kid, for some unknown reason, and Harvey can’t ignore it. He can’t deny the kids attractive either, in an alley cat kind of way, underfed and ready to scratch your eyes out, but attractive nevertheless, and if he’s got to pretend to be whatever it is Cleaver thinks he is, then so be it. 

“What kind of cash are we talking about, Specter?” Cleaver asks, his small eyes shining at the thought of money. Harvey straightens his tie and tries to look bored, picks an imaginary piece of fluff from his lapel. 

“Shall we discuss this in private?” he asks and the kid chooses that moment to open his mouth.

“Article 3, sub section 4 of the Official Ownership Guidelines states that an Indentured must be present when discussions over his/her transfer are taking place,” the kid says, in an almost bored tone but one that sounds like he knows exactly what he’s talking about and Harvey snaps his gaze to him, surprised. Cleaver slaps him round the back of the head, hard enough that his eyes glaze over for a second. 

“He’s always spouting law,” he mutters as Harvey gives Cleaver his patented death glare. 

“What’s your name, kid,” Harvey asks and the kid bristles, stands straight and looks Harvey straight in the eye. 

“Article 10, sub section 6 of the Official Ownership Guidelines states that an Owner may exercise the right to strip an Indentured of his/her name...sir,” the kid finishes. And he’s good; Harvey can give him that, the way he manages to make the word sir sound respectful and completely sarcastic at the same time. Harvey’s beginning to like this kid. 

“Don’t give me that shit, kid, what’s your name?” The kid’s nostrils flare and his throat bobs as he swallows and Cleaver raises his hand again as if to strike him. 

“Mike... _sir_ ,” he says, flinching enough away from Jim to satisfy the man’s sadistic tendencies. 

“Good boy,” Harvey practically purrs at him and Cleaver glares at them both, “now...shall we discuss the transfer of ownership, Mr Cleaver?” Harvey gestures towards the doors, where he knows Cleaver’s office is. Harvey’s good at reading people, he knows that Cleaver will hand the kid over for money, that’s all he cares about after all. It’s just a question of getting the right price. 

Cleaver tugs on Mike’s wrist and hauls him along behind him, and Harvey swallows the sick feeling, the bile rising up in his throat, at the knowledge that he’s about to own someone. 

...

 

It takes less than thirty minutes for the _transaction_ to complete. Thirty minutes and Harvey now has in his possession a document that gives him full control over another human being. The whole process and the very thought that he’s now become one of those people makes him feel sick and he accepts the glass of bourbon that Cleaver holds out to him. Mike watches the whole process with bright blue eyes, and an unreadable expression, his fingers flexing by his sides. 

“Well here’s to business,” Cleaver says holding his glass up, under the false illusion that Harvey gives a crap about him. Harvey glares at him, throws the amber liquid down his throat and slams the glass back onto Cleaver’s ostentatious desk. 

“Here’s to hoping I never do business with you again. The very sight of you disgusts me Cleaver, now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll take my _property_ and be out of here,” Harvey says, crooking at finger at Mike and folding up the contract, slipping it into his inside pocket. 

Cleaver laughs, “I don’t think so,” and curls his fingers around Mike’s wrist. “Tell him, Rookie,” Cleaver says and Mike’s eyes flash briefly. 

“Article 32, sub section 12, transfer contracts must be processed through the Ownership Union, and until such time as processed, the previous Owner still maintains control over the Indentured,” Mike says blankly and Cleaver grins smugly up at Harvey. 

“You mean to tell me you get him for one more night?” Cleaver nods, tugs Mike closer and Mike lets his eyes close briefly. 

“I don’t want another fucking mark on him Cleaver, you hear me?” Cleaver just continues to smirk as one of his men walks into the office and holds the door open. Harvey’s sure fire signal that business is done and he is less than welcome anymore. 

“He’s still technically mine Specter, as long as he’s still alive tomorrow there’s nothing you can do about it,” Cleaver says and the man in the door way curls his sausage like fingers around Harvey’s arm. Harvey shakes him off roughly. 

“I’m not one for threats, but I am going to end this, this whole thing, I will get that Bill turned around and have you incarcerated for crimes against humanity. Do you understand?” Harvey says darkly, and there is a flicker of something akin to slight fear across Jim’s face. Harvey throws Mike a look that he hopes reads ‘sorry’ and the kid shrugs as if you say ‘whatever, nothing I can’t take.’ 

Harvey feels more and more nauseated the further he gets away from Cleaver’s office, and when he hears the first muffled grunt of pain, he quickens his step. There’s nothing more he can do for Mike tonight, he just hopes Cleaver doesn’t do any permanent damage to the kid. 

He needs to get drunk, to forget the soft noises of pain he can still hear in his head, to forget the dead look in Mike’s eyes and the way they seemed to flash every now and then and the fact that Harvey wants nothing more than to make them flash with brilliance and defiance at him. To forget the fact he just bought a person and now, well tomorrow morning, he will technically hold the rights to lord over said person. He could make the kid do whatever he wanted, within reason (or so said the law), could make him fight every day, ever hour, for the rest of his life and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. Harvey knew that the law didn’t care about these kids, the ones that made bad choices and fell in with the wrong crowd and got sold to people like Cleaver for a few hundred dollars to fight for their lives all for the sake of entertainment. But it was changing, they didn’t just use them for fights any more, that’s what it started out as, but now they used them for all sorts of depraved reasons and Harvey has even seen one Owner walking around with a leash around the slim neck of a half starved girl before. Jessica had to threaten him with firing to get him not to punch the guys face in. 

The bar Harvey chooses knows him, knows that he hates small talk and loves silence and the bartender slips a whiskey in front of with him out asking, shooting him a small nod as he walks away to serve someone else. The paper in his pocket rustles as he sits down in his usual booth and slides his jacket off his shoulders. His head pounds and he’s exhausted but he knows he wont be able to sleep, not tonight, not after seeing Mike fight, and his blue eyes glaring daggers at Harvey before the dead bored expression came back. There’s something about that kid, something under the feral attractiveness of him, and Harvey can’t get him out of his mind. And to make matters worse, he now owns the kid. 

He scrubs a hand over his face, downs the whiskey and raises a finger to the bartender who slides another across the booth table a few minutes later. 

He’s on his second when a tall, stunning, dark haired woman slides into the booth next to him and runs her fingers up his thigh. 

“You look like you need to forget,” she says silkily and Harvey’s got her bundled into the back of his town car and her hands are down his pants within ten minutes. 

Yes, he needs to forget. 

...

 

“Harvey...care to tell me why there is an underfed teenager in your office that looks like he just got the crap beaten out of him?” Jessica crosses her arms in front of her chest and smiles that sweet but highly dangerous smile of hers. Harvey shrugs inelegantly and shoves his hands into his pockets. 

“First of all, he’s 24...ish. Secondly, he got the crap beaten out of him last night. And thirdly, he’s in my office because I technically...own him?” he trails off, posing the last statement as a question and Jessica’s eyes widen in shock. 

“I’m sorry...what?” 

“I own him,” he says again and Jessica pushes two fingers into the bridge of her nose and perches on the edge of her desk. 

“Ok, I am never sending you to a fight again. What the hell were you thinking? Is that one of Cleaver’s boys? Did you steal him? Oh my God what the hell is wrong with you?” she asks and Harvey, at the risk of losing his balls, smirks. He’s hungover, but has that glow of a great one night stand and he’s got a feeling that Jessica is a little too taken aback to hand his balls to him on a silver platter for smirking. 

“Which question do you want me to answer first?” Jessica glares and stands straight and pokes one immaculately manicured finger into the centre of his chest. 

“All of them...and answer them now,” she says and Harvey sighs, rubbing at his chest absently. 

“I don’t know what I was thinking, yes he was Cleaver’s, no I didn’t steal him and apparently there’s a lot wrong with me,” he says, walking behind her desk and pulling out the bottle of Johnny Walker she thinks she hides so brilliantly. She glares slightly but accepts the glass that Harvey holds out for her. 

“Start at the beginning,” she says, sitting down on the couch rather too heavily. 

He tells her everything, about the way Mike had moved in the ring, the sharp snapping of the other kids neck, the way Cleaver had backhanded Mike and Harvey’s instant flare of anger at it. She raises her eyebrow slightly but doesn’t say a word. He tells her about the way Mike had mouthed off, subtly and how he’s obviously intelligent, obviously knows a lot about Indentured laws, he was obviously smart, and although Cleaver had looked pissed at handing him over, it was the money that mattered to him, not the kids life. Or his mind.

Jessica pats his knee and stands, hooking her finger at him to get him to follow. 

Mike had turned up this morning with a fresh bruise and a nasty looking cut across his cheekbone, like the skin had been split with a pair of knuckle dusters. Mike hadn’t said anything, just shrugged when Harvey asked if Cleaver had done that personally and winced slightly when Donna had pulled out her first aid kit and swiped the area with disinfectant. She had looked at Harvey with her blank expression the entire time and Mike had just stared in front of him, his barely contained anger and spirit making his whole body vibrate. 

“Tell me one thing,” Jessica asks, “did you use company money?” Harvey smiles at her as they reach his office and he spares Mike a quick glance. The kid is sitting rather uncomfortably on the couch, hand pressed to his side and Donna hands him a coffee. He takes his hand from his side and wraps them both around the mug, flicking her a rather small, very brief smile. 

“I thought about it...but no, it was my own money,” Harvey says watching as Donna looks like she’s going to ruffle the kids hair affectionately but settles for holding his chin in her hands and inspecting the cut on his cheekbone. 

“Why?” Jessica asks and he looks back at her, sobering. 

“A kid died last night, Jessica...in front of my fucking eyes, and more will die tonight and no one does a damn thing to stop it,” he says heatedly and Jessica raises her eyebrow as if to say ‘don’t take that tone with me.’

“So you buy one of his kids...what are you going to do Harvey, buy them all?” she says, looking through the glass walls to Mike. Mike looks up at them both and there is that strange mixture of impassive indifference and fiery passion in the kids eyes. 

“If I have to,” Harvey replies evenly. 

“Harvey...what are you going to do with him?” Jessica asks. 

“I have no idea.”


	2. Chapter 2

Harvey manages to get the kid home without much difficulty, Jessica had practically shoved them both out of the door, “nothing happening Harvey, go home and figure out what the hell you’re going to do”. Mike’s quiet the entire car journey, his fingers playing a rhythm out against his thigh as Ray pulls the car into the underground garage and Harvey slides out, holding his hand out to help Mike from the car. Mike stares at it for a second before shrugging, and climbing out of the car by himself, wincing and clutching at his side as he ducks his head. 

“Let’s get upstairs and I can look at that,” Harvey says and Mike looks up sharply, doesn’t say a word but nods once, and Harvey doesn’t miss the way his muscles tense as he guides Mike with a gentle hand on his back. He makes a mental note to try not to touch the kid too much. 

That goes completely out of the window when Harvey gets them both through the door and orders Mike to take his shirt off and he sees the bruises on against the pale skin. Cleaver’s ugly face floats in his mind, his small malicious piggy eyes looking at Mike like he could do whatever the hell he wanted to the kid. 

Harvey honestly doesn’t understand the mentality of Owners, ignoring the fact that he is one now, he doesn’t get how people can treat other people with such a lack of respect. It makes his blood boil. And looking at Mike now, his shoulders set as he stares almost blankly but with a hint of defiance at him, purple and red and fading yellow blooming across his skin, Harvey feels his hands ball into fists. 

“Jesus, I could kill him,” Harvey mutters, Mike shrugs again as Harvey shakes himself and heads into his bathroom to grab his first aid kit. He pauses there briefly, pressing his hand hard against the counter, takes a couple of deep breaths. Not only did Mike just obey without question when he told him to take the shirt off, but he obviously lacks any regard for his own personal wellbeing if the indifferent shrug at Harvey’s muttered expletives are anything to go by. 

Mike is still in the middle of the sitting room when Harvey makes his way back, his hands clasped behind his back. There are bruises all over him, old ones, fresh ones that Harvey knows would have been done last night, faint yellow marks where his skin had been marred probably about two weeks ago. There’s a neat cut across his ribs, surrounded by vicious red and dark purple bruising, not too long, but it looks deep and Mike looks like he’s trying not to curl into a ball and clutch at it. 

“Come here,” Harvey says, through his dry throat and Mike immediately moves to stand in front of him. He’s the same height at Harvey, but a hell of a lot small in stature, he looks not a day over 21, but there’s also a bone weary age old tiredness in his eyes that comes from having seen the worst of people for most of your life. 

“Did he do this because of me?” Harvey asks, reaching out gently and pressing his fingers experimentally into Mike’s skin. Mike hisses, lifts his arm slightly to let Harvey look closer at the bruising. 

“I’ve had worse,” Mike replies, avoiding Harvey’s gaze and shrugging again. Harvey stands straight and pulls out a disinfectant wipe and opens the sealed package. Mike just stands impassively in front of him, only his eyes giving any hint of emotion as Harvey turns back to him. 

“Never again,” Harvey mutters, leaning forward and pressing the wipe to the cut. Mike hisses slightly, bites on his bottom lip and Harvey leans back enough to look him in the eyes, “sorry...was this done with a knife?” 

“His favourite,” Mike answers simply and Harvey feels sick again. He pulls back and drops the wipe onto the coffee table and pulls out a bandage from the kit. 

“God you’re skinny,” Harvey breathes out, his fingers touching gently on the dark red and purple bruise on Mike’s side again, “how the hell did you ever win a fight?” Mike’s muscles twitch, along with his nostrils, and he flinches minutely. 

“It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, its the size of the fight in the dog,” he says simply, looking down at the bandage in Harvey’s hands. Harvey gestures for him to lift his arms and he does. 

“Mark Twain...” Harvey mutters, holding the bandage in one place, his palm flat against Mike’s skin, “impressive,” Mike’s eyes flash briefly.

“You think I’m an idiot because I sold myself?” he demands and Harvey lets out a brief laugh, winding the bandage around him. 

“Yes. There’s always another way out,” he says and Mike snorts in derision. 

“Not when someone has a gun to your head,” he replies sullenly. Harvey reaches around him again, pulling the bandage tight, but not too tight and catches a hint of the scent of Mike’s skin. God he shouldn’t be thinking about anything other than patching the kid up, definitely not taking advantage of him. Mike’s jaw muscles quiver as he clenches his teeth when Harvey pulls the bandage again and there’s a hint of _something_ in his eyes that Harvey doesn’t want to identify yet. 

“Especially then,” Harvey replies, sliding a safety pin into the bandage and leaning back far enough to look at his handy work. It’s been a while since he’s bandaged someone up, misspent youth and all that, but he’s still got the knack obviously as Mike flexes his arms and takes a cautionary deep breath. He winces only slightly, nods once at Harvey as if to say thanks. 

Harvey can’t help himself from reaching out and brushing his fingers over the skin just below the cut on Mike’s cheekbone and Mike’s expression remains the same, impassive, but he swallows and his nostrils flare briefly. 

“Donna patched you up nicely with this one,” Harvey says quietly and Mike nods once, takes a step towards him and Harvey wonders briefly how this skinny, beaten to shit kid can elicit a stirring of lust deep in his belly. 

Mike reaches out with sure hands and undoes Harvey’s belt. 

“What are you doing?” Harvey snaps, stepping away from him quickly and Mike’s brow creases in confusion. 

“Giving you what you bought me for,” he says, stepping even closer to Harvey. Harvey takes another step back and runs his hand through his hair, ignoring the fact that he wants to see if the kid’s lips are as soft as they look. 

“What? No. First of all you’re hurt, so even if I wanted to, which I don’t,” he ignores Mike’s briefly raised eyebrow, “I wouldn’t take advantage of you like that. Secondly...I didn’t buy you to sleep with you,” he says as firmly as he can. He’s not some perverted deviant that bought a person to service him and he needs Mike to know that, to know that he can trust Harvey, even if Harvey can’t really trust himself right now. 

“Then why?” Mike asks, honestly confused, “you obviously didn’t like the fight last night so you didn’t buy me for that.” 

“To help you, I bought you to help you,” Harvey replies and Mike stiffens, crosses his arms over his chest like Harvey’s just said the worst thing, and confusion and proud anger flickers across Mike’s face. 

“I can take care of myself,” he mutters darkly, like a child and Harvey suddenly remembers how fucking young he is. He may have the manner of someone older sometimes, the age old look in his eyes, but he’s still a kid and Harvey needs to remember that. 

“Oh cos you’ve done such a bang up job of it so far,” he scoffs and gets a glare in return.

“Fuck you,” Mike snaps and Harvey raises an eyebrow, puts enough distance between them that he can feel the pit in his stomach lessen. He makes his way into the kitchen. 

“I thought we just established that wasn’t going to happen?” he throws over his shoulder as he flicks the switch on the coffee machine. 

“What the fuck do you want from me?” Mike shouts, slamming his hands down onto the kitchen counter, wincing slightly as he jars his ribs. 

“Is it so difficult for you to believe that someone wants to just help?” Harvey asks, turning around, crossing his arms over his chest as he slouches back against the counter. 

“Yes,” Mike replies, hands still pressed into the granite of the counter and he lifts his chin defiantly. 

“Why?” Harvey asks, cocking his head to the side and Mike slides his hands off the counter and shoves them into his pockets. 

“Cos, one way or another, I’ve been fighting my entire life and no one has given a damn so far,” he shrugs, the immediate anger going out of his body although Harvey can still the residual effects, can practically feel it from the other side of the kitchen. 

“Well that’s changed kid, so get used to it,” he says, pouring the fresh coffee into a mug and handing it across the kitchen island to Mike. Mike eyes it suspiciously before he takes it gently and wraps his skinny hands around it. There’s still bruising across his knuckles from the fight last night and Harvey wants to ice them for him. He grabs an ice pack from the fridge and slides it across the island. “For your hands,” he says as Mike looks at it like it might explode. 

“What makes you so different?” Mike asks, unwrapping one hand from the coffee mug and picking up the ice pack. Harvey shrugs, smiles easily at him, at least he hopes its easily, his stomach is still churning slightly at the sight of Mike, topless apart from a bandage that’s starkly white against Mike’s slightly dirty but pale skin. 

“I’d like to say it’s my startling good looks...but it’s probably just because I actually give a shit about people. Don’t tell anyone though,” he hooks a finger at Mike and walks out of the kitchen towards his spare room. “You can sleep in here,” he says, pushing the door open and leaning against the door frame as Mike’s eyes widen slightly at the view. Harvey smirks as he tries to hide the fact he’s obviously impressed with the view and places his mug carefully on the bedside table. 

“What do I call you?” he asks and Harvey pushes himself off the frame and curses Cleaver, for the millionth time, that he made this obviously brilliant kid into something completely different. 

“Call me whatever the hell you want, personally I prefer Harvey,” he says, going into the en suite bathroom and pulling a spare toothbrush and razor from the cabinet, he pushes them into Mike’s hands, his fingers brushing over Mike’s pulse completely by accident, “but don’t ever call me Sir in that obnoxious tone of yours otherwise we will have a falling out, got that?” he says with a slightly smile and Mike cradles the toothbrush and razor against his chest like Harvey’s just given him the keys to the Ark of the Covenant. 

“Aye, aye, Captain,” there’s an amused twinkle in his eyes, deep under the bored tone in which he says it and Harvey takes that as a win. 

...

Harvey doesn’t sleep that night, and if the slight creaking he can hear from the spare room is any indication, Mike spends most of it tossing and turning as well. Its not just the thought of owning Mike that’s not allowing sleep, its the kids face. His eyes. The way he seems to have two personalities. The, perhaps, default, defiant side, the one that makes his eyes flash with anger, the intelligent side that has him quoting Mark Twain and spouting law like it’s second nature. And the, probably, hard learnt submissive one, that obeys without question, that stands still and lets Harvey touch him, the one that comes through with his bored, blank tone of voice. And it seems they fight inside him, the defiant side coming out every now and then before he tempers it down with the submissive side. 

The kids a puzzle alright, a conundrum wrapped up in a pretty little package that looks like it could scratch your eyes out if given the opportunity and Harvey has no idea what the hell he’s going to do with him. 

Mike appears as soon as Harvey steps out of his room, like he’s been waiting for Harvey, and his hair is still slightly messy from tossing all night, and his eyes are red. He’s moving slightly easier though, the cut under his eyes look less swollen this morning also. 

“Need anything?” Harvey asks, filling the coffee machine with beans. Mike shakes his head.

“I’m good...thank you,” he says and Harvey raises an eyebrow, looks him up and down. 

“Come on, when was the last time you ate?” 

“Tuesday,” Mike answers without thinking and Harvey feels his eyes widen. 

“It’s Friday,” he says stupidly and Mike’s lips twitch at the corner. 

“I know,” he replies. Harvey walks around the island and pushes Mike into one of the stools. 

“Sit,” he orders and pulls out eggs from the fridge. He doesn’t eat very often in his apartment, but he cooks a mean omelette and the kid looks like he’s about to fall down. He grates some cheese, cuts a few mushrooms and cracks the eggs into a pan. Mike watches him with his blue eyes, silent as the grave and Harvey wonders how difficult it is for him to swallow down his defiant side. 

Five minutes later he pushes a plate in front of Mike and points at him. 

“Eat,” Mike just stares at him for a few seconds before cutting a small mouthful. He chews slowly and Harvey watches as his eyes slips shut for a second, like he’s forgotten himself and Harvey wonders what Cleaver actually fed his kids. 

Mike completely forgets himself a few seconds later and devours the omelette in record time, wiping his arm across his mouth as he pushes his clean plate away from him. Harvey grins, snatches the plate and dumps it into the sink. 

“Come on,” he says, grabbing his door keys and wallet and Mike doesn’t argue, just stands and trails after Harvey into the glass elevator.

“Where are we going?” Mike asks in the elevator, shifting nervously as he looks down to the street miles below. Harvey tries to hide his smile and pulls his phone out of his pocket, fiddles with the buttons briefly. 

“To my doctor,” he answers and Mike immediately looks up, slight panic clouding his face before he schools his features expertly. 

“I’m fine,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets as the elevator comes to a stop on the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal Ray leaning up against his shining town car. 

“No...You’re not; now get in the fucking car,” Harvey says with no venom and sees a flicker of a smile across Mike’s lips as he slips into the car. “And afterwards, we’ll get you some clothes that actually fit,” Harvey says, pulling his phone out again and texting Donna to make an appointment for 20 minutes at his small private surgery. 

“You going to spend a ridiculous amount of money?” Mike asks. 

“Probably, you kind of look like shit,” he replies. 

“This isn’t _Pretty Woman_ you know? You can’t win me over with money and charm,” Mike says, in his defiant tone and Harvey really is starting to like Defiant Mike. 

“I know,” Harvey replies, checking his message from Donna which confirms the appointment, “I’m better looking than Richard Gere,” Mike snorts slightly, turns his head to look out of the window and Harvey smiles into his phone. 

...

Apart from the obvious broken ribs, cuts and bruises, and slight malnourishment, blood work pending, Mike is fine. Or so his doctor tells him in hushed tones as Mike slips his overly large hoodie back over his head. 

“You’re lucky actually,” Doctor Kennedy says, “I’ve seen a lot worse.” 

“Did you check him for...” Harvey trails off, catching Mike’s eye across the large room, “sexual abuse?” Mike remains impassive, just blinks once and looks down at his feet. 

“Yes, and what there was, wasn’t recent and healing surprisingly well, I’ll let you know the results of the blood test when I get them,” she answers, looking down at her chart. 

“Thanks Helen,” Harvey takes her hand and she smiles up at him. “What about his mental state?” 

“That’s not something I can comment on, Harvey. I would just treat him gently for now. What are you going to do with him?” she asks, looking back at Mike. He’s got his hands clasped behind his back again and is just standing waiting. Harvey shrugs. 

“I keep asking myself the same thing.” 

...

“Why do I need a suit?” Mike asks as Rene pulls his arm out straight and runs the measuring tape along it. He mutters to himself and jots down something in his small notebook, “I’m not qualified to do anything. Nor am I allowed to,” Mike finishes, grimacing slightly as Rene brushes his hand over his ribs. 

“You need one because I say so,” Harvey says, checking his phone again for messages. Donna’s amazingly managed to keep most of the phone calls away from him today, he makes a mental note to bring her some of her favourite pastries when he goes into the office later, “so stop arguing,” Mike purses his lips.

Rene stands up, straightens his jacket and gives his note pad to one of the stunningly beautiful girls he manages to keep working in his shop despite his temper. 

“It’ll be ready tomorrow,” he says simply and Harvey nods. 

“Great, and we’ll take one off the rack for now,” Harvey says and Rene looks like he’s going to pass out. But considering Harvey is pretty sure he’s Rene’s best customer, he doesn’t say anything, just tightens his lips and ushers Mike towards the racks. And Harvey flicks his attention between Mike and his phone. 

Dressed in a suit, although its slightly generic and doesn’t fit as well as Harvey would like, Mike looks almost decent. If you ignore the cut cheekbone and the black eye, and the almost feral, half starved look he has about him that is. Harvey tips his head to the side and Mike shifts under his attention, before he catches himself and stands straight. 

“You don’t have to do that with me,” he mutters and Mike looks at him. 

“Do what?” he asks and Harvey sighs, passes his credit card to Rene who shuffles off with a mournful look at the suit Mike’s wearing. 

“Act like I own you,” Harvey replies and Mike schools his features, wipes any expression off his face and blinks. 

“You do,” he reminds Harvey. 

“I know, but I don’t like to be reminded of it,” Harvey mutters, scribbling his signature across the line on the receipt Rene hands him. Mike frowns, chews on his bottom lip for a second. He opens his mouth to reply as Harvey’s phone rings in his pocket. By the time Harvey’s answered it and is looking back at him, Mike’s face is irritatingly passive again. 

...

“Whoa kid, you scrub up good,” Donna whistles as they walked into the office and Harvey can’t help but notice the faint blush across Mike’s cheeks and the smile he gives her. Donna is an angel, Harvey knows this and doesn’t tell her enough, but the smile Mike is giving her more than makes it obvious that Mike thinks the same. She pats him gently on the shoulder as they walk past into Harvey’s office. 

Mike tugs at his collar and Harvey points at the couch. 

“You...sit,” he practically barks, Harvey Specter, Best Closer in the City voice creeping in now that he’s at work. Mike sits, heavily, curls his hands around each other and places them neatly in his lap. Donna winks at him through the window as Harvey fires up his computer and Mike ducks his head. 

“Mike...follow me,” Donna says, hooking her finger at Mike and Mike flashes a look at Harvey. Harvey shrugs, smiles at Donna and looks back down at his laptop. 

“I’d do what she says if I were you, kid,” he mutters, without looking up and he hears Mike’s sharp intake of breath as he pushes himself off the couch. 

Harvey spends the rest of the afternoon immersed in work, so much so that its 7 pm by the time he realises that Donna is knocking on the door frame and pulling her coat on. 

“Where’s the kid?” he asks and Donna nods her head down the hallway. 

“Library, he likes books,” she replies, checking her watch, “he’s been there for the last 5 hours, checked on him about an hour ago,” she says and Harvey frowns slightly. 

“What’s he doing?” 

“Reading, I would imagine, that’s generally what people do in libraries,” she grins and Harvey raises eyebrow. 

“Smartass,” she grins again and lifts her hand in a little wave, “how did you know he liked books?” Harvey asks and she stops mid step, looks at him with a sad smile. 

“He told me,” she says, shrugging and there’s something she’s not saying, something else Mike told her perhaps. But even the tiny pang of jealousy at the fact that Mike opened up to Donna and not him isn’t enough to get Harvey to push it right now. “Night Harvey,” she says, waving again and disappearing down the corridor. 

Harvey finishes up his email, powers down his laptop and stretches, hears the satisfying pop as his back clicks back into place. He’s pleased he got the work done this afternoon, without Mike being here, the kid’s distracting after all. And even when he’s meant to be doing something else, Harvey finds himself looking at him. He keeps telling himself it’s because he’s worried about him, worried that he’s going to go off into the deep end. But in reality, it’s because he’s fascinated by him. 

He finds Mike in the library, where Donna said he was, running his surprisingly delicate fingers over the spines of massive boring tomes of Law. There are a few books on one of the tables, open and lying on top of each other and if Harvey wasn’t well aware of Mike’s upbringing and history, he would look like a perfect Associate right now. 

“You could have told me,” Harvey says, stepping into the library. He tries to ignore the guilt that twists in his stomach as Mike jumps and turns around sharply. 

“Told you what?” 

“That you like books, there are far more interesting ones in my apartment than these,” he gestures to the books on the table and Mike shrugs inelegantly, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“I like the law,” he says simply and Harvey takes a step towards him, ignoring the flinch from Mike as he does so, the instant tensing in his body he gets whenever anyone makes a move close to him, “it’s not always logical but it’s dependable,” he finishes, shifting slightly, staring at Harvey. 

“Listen Mike,” he starts and Mike just continues to stare at him in the way that makes Harvey feel slightly uneasy, “I’m not like Cleaver, you don’t have to hide who you are from me.”

“I’m an Indentured, I don’t hide that,” he says, pulling his hands from his pockets and clasping them behind his back, illustrating to Harvey exactly who he makes out to be. Harvey frowns, pinches at the bridge of his nose. 

“I’m not talking about that,” he replies and Mike looks a little confused, “I’m talking about who you were before,” Mike flinches at before

“I try not to remember that,” Mike says in his dead tone and Harvey reaches out fast enough to wind his fingers around Mike’s hand. Mike shifts, surprised, his eyes going slightly wide but lets Harvey inspect his knuckles. Harvey’s middle finger rests on Mike’s pulse as he runs his thumb over the bruised skin, “it’s easier to pretend to be who they want you to be.” 

“You are who you pretend to be,” Harvey mutters, “so be careful who you pretend to be.” 

“Vonnegut,” Mike replies quietly, tugging his hand gently out of Harvey’s grasp. Harvey smiles crookedly at him. 

“One day Mike, you’re going to tell me how you know so much.”


	3. Chapter 3

It takes about three weeks for them to come sort of semblance of a routine. Mike is still jumpy and submissive, with flashes of defiance and brilliance every now and then and Harvey is still wondering what the hell to do with him. 

Mike doesn’t sleep much, spends most of the night pacing his room, like a caged animal, Harvey hears him and after Mike’s second night in the apartment when he was ceremoniously told to fuck off, Mike’s fingers clenched into fists by his sides, Harvey had pretty much left him to it, not before installing a punching bag in his room though. Now Harvey hears punches as well as Mike pacing and Mike’s knuckles are more often than not bruised and red in the mornings. 

Mike comes to work with him, he has a mind like nothing Harvey has ever known before, sharp and quick and he absorbs information like a sponge. Donna dotes on him like a lost, abused puppy, feeding him sugary coffees and pastries whenever she thinks Harvey isn’t looking. And when he isn’t seconded on Harvey’s couch, staring at his hands like he doesn’t quite know what to do with them, he’s lost in the library, pouring over books and articles and it hasn’t escaped Harvey’s attention that more often than not his choice of reading material is the subject of Indentured. 

Once or twice he’s appeared in Harvey’s doorway with an odd expression on his impassive face, his hands twitching by his sides, the gesture that Harvey’s come to realise means he’s incredibly frustrated and needs to hit something, but he never says anything and Harvey sends him down to the office gym and keeps forgetting to make Donna get whatever is troubling him out of him. 

His blood work miraculously comes back clean and Harvey lets out the breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding and thanks Helen, not before she manages to get in that he’s suffering from anaemia, and is deficient in most vital vitamins, “nothing a good steak and salad can’t fix though” she says in an amused tone just before Harvey hangs up and calls Donna to get the ingredients delivered to his apartment. 

Mike is also a good companion in the evenings, when they make it home with enough time to spare to do anything other than fall into their beds and sleep until the alarm the following morning. 

He doesn’t say much but Harvey likes silence, and it never seems to be an uneasy one, meaningful yes, but never awkward and what Mike does say is usually intelligent and well thought out. He’s swiftly becoming a sounding board for Harvey when he’s stuck on a case, stuck from looking so closely at something that he can’t find inspiration on how to deal with it and Mike usually gives it back, the inspiration, with one or two well placed words or a quick witted quip and a minute quirk of his lips. 

He also loves movies. Devours them like he’s never seen one before and won’t be allowed to again and Harvey gets that. He probably wasn’t given the opportunity to age like a normal teenager, going to the movies and making out on the back row with girls, and he’s probably wondering when his luck is going to run out. 

It doesn’t surprise Harvey that Mike prefers the classics, hides a laugh at The Three Stooges and the Carry On movies, sits wide eyed the whole way through The Godfather pretty much without blinking. 

It’s almost comfortable but Harvey has to keep reminding himself where the kid comes from, what he is, and what he’s capable of. Harvey also wants more than this easy routine and silence, he can’t help himself every time he looks at the kid. Because he’s now wearing suits that fit properly and poorly nourished as he is (although Harvey, and Donna, are working on that) he fills them out almost perfectly. And it’s downright distracting. 

Which is why he finds himself on a date, with a stunning, leggy blonde and wondering if Mike is ok on his own or if he’s going into a tailspin and wrecking the apartment. Not that he actually thinks Mike would wreck the apartment, but he’s seen the way Mike looks like he just needs some violence in his life every now and then, and honestly, it almost scares him a little, that feral look Mike gets in his eyes and the way his fingers twitch by his sides. 

The blonde, Sophie, is gorgeous, flicking her hair over her shoulder, and even from across the small table Harvey can catch her scent and she smells great but his mind is elsewhere as she leans across the table and places her delicate fingertips on the back of his hand. Harvey has to close his eyes to stop himself from imagining blunt, bitten fingernails and bruises knuckles instead. 

He looks up and smiles his devastating smile at her and she practically simpers. 

“So,” she begins, picking up her wine glass in a way that’s meant to be seductive but right now Harvey’s just finding it annoying, “do you want to get out of here?” 

The meal was great, food perfect, the conversation was stilted and lacked any sort of intelligence and Harvey wants nothing more than to leave right now and jerk off in the shower but he nods, signals for the cheque, and being the unfailing gentleman that he is, wraps his jacket around her shoulders as they catch a cab back to Harvey’s apartment. 

Truth be told he almost nervous about going back there, having to explain who, _what_ Mike is to a relative stranger, but actually now he thinks about it, now Sophie’s hand is playing on his thigh, he’s actually thinking about forgoing the shower and just using her instead. She doesn’t look like the sort of person who would be desperate for a call back and so Harvey is beginning to come round to the idea of loosing himself in her tonight and never thinking about her again. 

The apartment is quiet when Harvey gets back, Sophie trailing after him and whistling quietly as she makes her way over to the windows, her heels clicking against the floor and Harvey wonders where Mike is. To be honest he didn’t really expect him to be sprawled over the couch surrounded by empty beer cans and pizza boxes like it was his own home, the kid’s still too uncomfortable to do that, but it irks Harvey that he’s not even in the living room. But that’s when he hears the quiet sounds of Mike working out, or working his tension out through his fists. 

“You have a roommate?” Sophie asks, turning towards the sound and Harvey narrows his eyes slightly, shoots her a forced smile. 

“Something like that,” he mutters, making his way to Mike’s room, “be right back.” 

He hesitated about putting a lock on Mike’s door. It was an invasion of privacy not to have one, but then again Harvey didn’t know, wasn’t sure of the kid’s mental state and didn’t want to have him locking himself in there for days on end doing god knows what to himself. So he had i9nstalled one and Mike had watched with unblinking eyes, but never used it. He pushes the door open gently and lets himself lean against the door frame and watch the way Mike moves. 

It’s like he was born to fight, the way he moves, ducks and weaves in a way that Harvey hasn’t seen anyone move before, a way that would be graceful if Harvey didn’t know that those hands hand probably ended a life. 

There’s a sheen of sweat across his body, a bead runs down his spine, like he’s been doing this for hours and Harvey feels a stab of guilt at that. 

“Mike,” Mike stops almost immediately, drops his hands to his sides but doesn’t turn around. His shoulders heave as he drags in a breath and Harvey takes a step into the room. 

“S...Harvey,” he replies and Harvey doesn’t miss the way he stopped himself from saying _Sir_. It had taken a few times, a threat of Harvey punching Mike, with a smile, to get Mike to call him Harvey but he still stumbles sometimes, when he’s distracted especially. 

“You ok?” Harvey asks and Mike turns. He’s got that dead look in his eyes again but now that Harvey really looks, he realises its not dead, its focused, one track minded, intent on the task at hand, which right now seems to be trying to beat the punching bag into a pulp. 

“Fine,” Mike answers, flexing his fingers and winching slightly. 

“How long have you been going at it?” Mike shrugs, turns the shrug into a shoulder roll, like he’s working out tension and knots and Harvey grabs at his hand, runs his fingers over Mike’s knuckles. They’re swollen and Harvey grimaces in sympathy. 

“How was your date?” Mike asks suddenly, pulling his hand out of Harvey’s grasp and Harvey frowns slightly. Mike takes a step back, “You don’t have to tell me obviously, I just thought...” 

“Oh...hi,” Harvey turns and Sophie’s in the doorway. Out of his peripheral vision Harvey sees Mike take another step back, clasp his hands behind his back and bow his head slightly, “hi,” she says again, stepping into the room and Harvey feels a surge of anger at the fact she just thinks she can walk in, “I’m Sophie,” she sticks her hand out and Mike stares at it like it’s got seven fingers. She glances at Harvey. 

“Mike,” Harvey says quietly and Mike reaches forward and takes Sophie’s hand. 

“Mike,” he mutters and Sophie smiles. 

“You didn’t tell me you had an Indentured, Harvey,” she says and Mike pulls his hand back and Harvey flinches. He wraps his fingers around Sophie’s wrist and pulls her gently from the room, she throws a casual “nice to meet you” over her shoulder as Harvey pulls Mike’s door shut. He hears Mike punch the bag and lets out a sigh. 

“It’s complicated,” he says and Sophie urges him to continue with her eager face, “you want something to drink?” he asks, suddenly not wanting to talk about Mike, he doesn’t want to have to explain but he himself isn’t sure how he feels about the kid. 

“Sure,” she replies, pulling herself up onto the kitchen counter and crossing one long leg over the other. The split up the side of her dress falls open to reveal an expanse of tanned skin and Harvey doesn’t want that. He wants pale skin, pale enough to show the veins underneath, marred by scars and bruises. He wants to make Mike fall apart under his hands. He’s beginning to hate himself for it, “so what’s complicated?” 

Harvey shuts her up by covering her mouth with his and she moans prettily, winding her hands into his hair. Sophie is everything he should want. Stunning, legs that go on for miles, vapid enough to keep quiet when she needs to but with a sharp enough mind that Harvey wouldn’t get bored too quickly, the right sort of arm candy that would fit with most of his work parties very easily, but he can’t stop his mind from slipping to Mike, to the skinny kid next door. He’s all angles, sharp and pointy, ribs sticking out where there should be soft flesh, bruises and a brilliant mind that’s caught under god knows how many layers of issues, and quite rightly so, but he’s a kid. And Harvey would be taking advantage if he was to do half the things he dreamt about in his darkest dreams. Things he doesn’t even want to admit to himself in the light of day, when Mike looks at him like he can’t quite figure out what the hell Harvey wants. 

God, if Harvey only knew himself. 

Sophie moans again, winds her long legs around his waist and pulls him closer. She slips off the counter and slides down his body seductively as she does it, smiles up at him through her eyelashes. That same old look her gets from every girl he brings back. And he can’t remember when this started getting boring, when he’d rather have bright blue challenging, yet submissive eyes staring up at him instead. 

Harvey’s only human so he lets her slip to her knees and use her delicate hand to pull his zipper down. 

She’s good, he’ll give her that, moans like a pro, but her hands are too small on his hips, and she doesn’t dig her fingers in like he knows Mike would. 

Sophie hums and swallows around him and Mike chooses that moment to walk into the kitchen. 

Harvey’s too far gone to stop, to do anything apart from stare at Mike as Sophie hums again and he comes down the back of her throat. Mike’s face is impassive the whole time, the only indication he feels anything for what he’s seeing is the faint twitching of his jaw muscles, and the flexing of his fingers. He turns on his heal before Harvey’s catches his breath. 

“Shit,” he mutters and Sophie looks up, wipes her thumb over her bottom lip, and before Mike came into his life, he would have groaned, hauled her to her feet and probably fucked her over the kitchen counter, kiss the taste of himself from her mouth. But now he just wants her out. She stands, looks at him with her head to one side and seems to get it. She pats his cheek gently. 

“Call me,” she says, in a way that makes Harvey know she’s fully aware he wont and she’s out of the door, trailing expensive perfume across the living room, before Harvey can answer. 

Mike’s door is closed, which isn’t necessarily unusual, it took Harvey a week and a half to get him to close the door by himself. The ingrained response of leaving the door open, because they probably didn’t have doors at Cleaver’s, too strong for him to immediately give it up. But it’s closed now and Harvey runs his hand across his face before he knocks gently and pushes it open. 

Mike’s got his back to the door, hand and forehead pressed to the window. It’s a familiar pose and Harvey notices the twitch in his back muscles. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says quietly and Harvey has to strain to hear him, his voice muffled by probably embarrassment and the fact he has his head pointed away from Harvey. 

“For what?” 

“I didn’t know she was still here,” Mike lets his hand slip from the window and there’s still the impression fogging up the glass as he turns. His face is unreadable and not for the first time Harvey wishes that he wasn’t so adept at schooling his features, and that just this once he knew what Mike was thinking. 

“It’s ok. I’m sorry too,” Harvey replies and Mike’s forehead creases slightly, and then he looks totally taken aback. 

“For what?”

“You didn’t have to see that, this is your home too and I should have respected that,” Mike looks even more shocked, and he drops his gaze from Harvey’s face, curls his fingers by his sides. 

“There’s no need…”

“No need to respect that? Of course there is,” Harvey interrupts and Mike frowns again, opens his mouth but obviously thinks better of it, clamps it shut. 

“What do you want from me?” he asks suddenly, looking up and across at Harvey. 

“I’m sorry?” 

“What do you _want_ from me?” and then Harvey gets what Mike is trying to say. God he wants so much, but he can’t have it, shouldn’t want it. 

“Mike…” he starts and realises he has no idea how to voice that, how to voice what’s currently going on in his head. He ignores the loaded question and answers his own instead, the one that he’s been asking himself since Mike came into his life, the simple _what do you want?_ , “I want to help you, I want to get that bill turned over, I want you to be able to do whatever the hell you want,” he says, Mike’s fingers twitch and he shoves his hands into his pockets again. And Harvey really wishes he had put a shirt on before they had this conversation, because after seeing Mike covered in sweat he now wants to know what his skin tastes like. 

“Why? Why do you want to help? No one else does,” Mike says and Harvey takes a step forward. Mike flinches but doesn’t move away. There’s still a slight discolouration on his cheek from the bruise Cleaver gave him before he handed him over, and the cut will no doubt scar, but right now its healing nicely, the new skin is pink and Harvey reaches out, hovers his fingers over Mike’s cheek and Mike’s eyes never waver off Harvey’s. 

“ _Because_ no one else does, so I guess it’s up to me,” he says with a self-sacrificing smile and he hopes Mike will smile back, like the ones he throws at Donna every now and then, the truly brilliant ones that are dimmed as soon as someone else walks by. 

“Big damn hero,” Mike mutters as Harvey lets his hand drop and there’s a small twist to the corner of his mouth and Harvey lets out a laugh. 

“Damn right…” Harvey puts his own hands into his pocket, if only to stop him from touching Mike and takes a step back, Mike lets out a breath and crosses his arms, “get some sleep.” 

 

…

Since the first morning Harvey woke up with the sinking feeling in his stomach that things were about to go horribly wrong, Day One of Mike, he hears Mike is the kitchen. Usually Mike waits until he hears Harvey before emerging, not comfortable enough in Harvey’s space to let himself wander around but this morning is different and he finds Mike with his fingers curled around the balcony ledge, looking out over the city. 

“Morning,” Harvey mumbles, running his hand through his hair and Mike jumps slightly, his knuckles go white around the ledge. 

“Morning,” he replies in a clipped voice, not looking at Harvey. 

“Coffee?” 

“I made some,” Mike says, and Harvey raises an eyebrow at him. 

“You did huh? Told you, you would figure out the machine,” Mike cracks a small smile, just the tiniest flicker of the corner of his lips but Harvey catches it and smiles back, before making his way into the kitchen for caffeine. He hears Mike trailing behind him, “I’ve been meaning to ask, do you have family Mike?” he asks and Mike’s footsteps stop. Harvey turns and catches a look of panic across Mike’s face. 

“No,” he replies simply and Harvey knows he wants the subject to be dropped. He’s not about to let that happen though. 

“Tell me about your parents,” Harvey says and Mike bites at his bottom lip as Harvey leans back against the kitchen counter. 

“They’re dead, Sir...Harvey,” Mike replies and Harvey pushes himself off the counter and takes a step forward. Mike doesn’t move, but his eyes harden slightly. 

“Where did you grow up?” Harvey asks and Mike narrows his eyes, his nostrils flare and his twitches his fingers. The work out from last night is evident on his knuckles and Harvey grabs an ice pack from the freezer on his way towards Mike. 

“New York,” Mike replies simply, letting Harvey take his hand. Harvey lays Mike’s hand over his own, palm to palm and places the ice pack gently across his knuckles. Mike hisses slightly. 

“When did they die?” Mike goes to tug his hand away but Harvey holds on.

“What are you looking for?” Mike asks warily, eyes darting between Harvey’s like he’s going to find the answer to his question there. 

“Answers...when did they die?” Harvey pushes, pulling the ice pack off Mike’s knuckles and pressing his fingers gently to the skin. It discolours but the blood bleeds back as soon as Harvey lifts the pressure. 

“When I was 8,” Mike says with a small wince and an experimental tug on his hand. Harvey just holds on, lets his thumb stroke across Mike’s knuckles and the look of panic and confusion on Mike’s face is almost enough to make him let go. 

“And then what?” Pain flashes across Mike’s face, the kind of pain that comes with memories you’d rather forget, worse than when he mentioned his parents, and Harvey lets him tug his hand free. 

“Then I lived with my grandmother,” he mutters, flexing his fingers slightly. 

“Where is she now?” Harvey asks and there’s that look again and he’s surprised that he wants to reach out and pull Mike close. 

“She died when I was 15,” He understands now. The kid was left alone in this world, left alone to fend for himself and aged 15, it probably seemed like a good idea, romantic almost, to sell yourself, have someone else take the responsibility of looking after you, rather than going into the system. It happened all the time, kids fell through the net, even though it was illegal to own Indentured under the age of 18. Harvey wants to kill Cleaver, wants to watch the life drain from his eyes with his hands around his fat neck. 

“Then what?” he asks, somewhat strained and Mike curls his hands into fists by his sides. 

“Why is this important?” Mike asks, a hint of anger creeping into his tone and Harvey has to admit he likes that, he likes seeing emotion in Mike, anything other than the forced boredom with which he speaks sometimes. 

“Because I’m trying to figure out who you are Mike,” he says and Mike frowns, clenches his fists again and takes an automatic step back as Harvey takes one forward. 

“Why?” Harvey frowns. He doesn’t want Mike to be scared of him, he doesn’t want Mike to think of him like he thought of Cleaver, willing to discipline with fists, not that he wants to discipline Mike, God he’s longing for Mike to argue with him. 

“Because you live in my house,” he replies.

“Because you own me and it’s your right to know?” Mike asks, a hint of sarcasm in his voice and Harvey lets his lips twist into a small smirk, one that usually gets peoples hackles up, and it does exactly the same with Mike, who seems to shiver with anger as his hands curl again and one rhythmically bumps into his thigh. 

“If you want to play it that way yes, because I own you,” Harvey replies and Mike scowls at him. 

“I...” he starts and Harvey can see him beginning to close down again so he pushes where it hurts. 

“What happened after your grandmother died?” 

“I survived,” Mike says, lifting his chin and Harvey takes another step towards him. Mike doesn’t move this time, just watches with barely concealed anger as Harvey takes another step. 

“How?” Mike frowns at the question, drags in a shaky breath and closes his eyes briefly, “how did you survive Mike? Did you sell yourself to the first asshole that came around? Did you do research to find who would pay the most? Did you sell your body first to the nearest pervert who’d fuck you for your next meal?” Mike snaps, storms back into the kitchen.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” he shouts, drawing his fist back and slamming it into the fridge. 

“That...” Harvey says and Mike presses his palm against the fridge, shakes his head once and turns back to Harvey, his blue eyes shining with anger and confusion, “I want emotion, don’t bottle yourself up Mike, you’re angry you let me know, you’re pissed at me, you take a swing, you’re happy? You smile. I don’t want a fucking zombie living in my house,” he says and Mike blinks and the anger bleeds away, out of his body and he seems to deflate, looking down at his bare feet. 

“If I take a swing I’d knock you out,” he says, lifting his gaze to Harvey and there’s taunting amusement in his eyes and Harvey raises an eyebrow at him and lets himself smile back. 

“Oh you think so, tough guy? I’m bigger than you,” he replies and Mike’s lips quirk at the corners. 

“I’m faster,” he says and Harvey reaches out and grabs at his hand. 

“Really?” he says, smirking and Mike doesn’t try to pull his hand out, just lets Harvey inspect his fingers, straightening them out and flexing them gently, “do you always punch things when you get angry?” he asks and Mike shrugs.

“It usually works,” he says and Harvey runs his index finger over his palm. Mike curls his fingers slightly inwards. 

“Yeah, well, you’re going to have to think of different methods cos I’m not like every one else,” Harvey says dropping his hand and Mike sways so slightly Harvey thinks he might imagine it. He looks down at his hand and curls his fingers inwards, the tendons in his wrist standing out stark under the pale skin, and looks back up at Harvey. 

“I’m starting to figure that out.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Harvey...Mike needs you, library...now,” Donna’s voice is tinny over the intercom but the urgency isn’t lost and Harvey drops his pen and is on his feet before he even thinks about it. Donna looks worried as he passes her and she half stands as if to follow him but obviously thinks better of it after taking one look at his face. Whatever Mike needs Harvey wants to be able to give it to him. 

He hears raised voices from the library as he rounds the corner and Jessica is already there, Louis too and Harvey catches sight of Mike looking furious, hands curled into fists and he looks like he’s ready to launch himself at the next person who takes a step forward. As soon as he sees Harvey though he stands straight, and swallows, forcing himself to relax as Kyle shouts at him again and Louis holds him back. 

“What the hell is going on?” Harvey asks and Jessica turns.

“Your little _pet_ just hit me,” Kyle spits and Harvey sees red. Jessica calms him with a sure palm flat against his chest as he scowls at Kyle and Kyle stands a little straight, lifts his chin as if he was perfectly entitled to call Mike Harvey’s pet. 

“Call him that again and I’ll let him have another shot,” Harvey says and Kyle, clutching at his cheek, looks a little terrified and backs down. “Somebody want to tell me...calmly...” he says, looking pointedly at Mike, “what’s going on?”

“Seems these two had a disagreement,” Jessica says calmly and Mike shifts, Harvey sees his fingers flex and he makes a mental note to remember to ice his knuckles when they get home. 

“About?” Harvey asks looking at Kyle who looks uncomfortable and shifts. Louis lets him go and takes a step towards Harvey. Harvey looks at Mike who doesn’t say anything, just stares back at him but there’s an almost pleading in his eyes and Harvey knows that whatever happened, Kyle probably deserved the punch. 

“I don’t think he’s safe to have in the office Harvey,” Louis says and Harvey snorts. 

“Don’t be ridiculous. Mike...want to tell me what happened?” Mike looks up at him and shakes his head. 

“He just swung at me, for no reason,” Kyle offers and Mike narrows his eyes, clenches his hands into fists again and Harvey makes it across the room and lays a hand on his shoulder. 

“I highly doubt that, he probably took offence to your face. To be honest, I am right now. So why don’t you go do the job you’re paid to do instead of harassing my...ke?” Harvey suggests and Kyle fumes, the red on his cheek getting brighter as he flushes, but he storms out of the library and Mike visibly relaxes, but blinks at Harvey as Harvey swallows down the confusion that he just called Mike his. 

“He needs to be punished,” Louis offers and Harvey nearly swings at him himself. It’s only Mike looking down at his feet and clasping his hands behind his back that stops Harvey from doing anything drastic. 

“You’re not punishing anyone Louis. He’s not an animal, for fuck’s sake, you touch him and you will answer to me, got that?” Louis’s eyes widen and Jessica sighs heavily. 

“Boys...” she says in that long suffering tone that she gets whenever Harvey and Louis are going at each other, they both stop and look at her, “no one is touching anyone. Mike,” she pinches the bridge of her nose briefly, “go sit with Donna. Louis...I’m sure you have work to do, Harvey...with me,” Harvey gives Mike a small nod and he trails out of the library, throwing Harvey an unreadable look before he disappears down the corridor. 

“Jessica this is ridiculous,” Harvey starts and Jessica holds up her hand. 

“Just be quiet for a minute and pretend that I am your boss for once,” she says, with a small smile and she doesn’t talk again until she shuts her office door, “do you think it’s wise to have him here?” she asks and Harvey sits down on the couch. Jessica sits next to him and crosses her long legs. 

“What else am I going to do with him? I can’t keep him locked up in the apartment all day,” he says and Jessica makes her ‘good point’ face, “and I know that kid, he wouldn’t have hit Kyle without provocation,” he finishes, standing up and straightening his vest. Jessica raises an eyebrow at him and nods her head in the direction of her desk. 

“You sure about that?” she asks as Harvey pulls out the Johnny Walker and pours two glasses. It may only be midday but _God_ he needs a drink.

“As I said, he’s not an animal,” he passes Jessica a glass, but she doesn’t drink, just holds it in her elegant hands as Harvey knocks his back in one swallow. 

“I get that, but he’s trained to argue with fists Harvey. That’s probably not the best quality to have in someone spending most of his time in a law firm surrounded by people who fight with words,” she sips at her drink, “but maybe we need to think of something to keep him occupied throughout the day, rather than wiling away the hours in the library,” she says and Harvey raises his eyebrow in surprise. 

“So you are punishing him?” 

“If you think giving him a job is punishing him, then yes, I guess I am,” Jessica smiles gently. She saved him once, saved him from probably heading down the path Mike is on right now, but he hadn’t even contemplated that she would help him save Mike.

“He likes reading,” Harvey shrugs, like that answers everything, “that’s why he spends so much time in the Library,” Jessica lets out a small surprised laugh. 

“He likes reading books on law?” 

“Apparently so,” Harvey replies, pouring another drink and Jessica stands, takes the bottle from his hands with a wry smile and twists the cap back on. 

“Ever thought he could help you out?” she asks and Harvey nods, swirling the liquid around the glass. 

“He does,” he replies simply, “every now and then,” and Jessica frowns slightly, cocks her head to the side and studies him. “Sometimes he doesn’t even realise he’s helping,” Harvey shifts, because no matter how tough he is, big bad lawyer, Jessica is tougher, and he’s man enough to admit that. 

“What going on with you and him?” she asks and Harvey sighs. It’s such a difficult question, with so many answers, so many different branches and each answer only leads to more questions. 

“Nothing...” he settles for a lie and Jessica rolls her eyes slightly like she didn’t expect an answer anyway, “listen, the kid’s confused, he’s been treated badly all his life and now someone’s trying to do right by him? It’s messing him up. And whatever that Trust Fund Brat said to him, made him angry enough to take a swing and I can assure you Jessica, I’ve made him _angry_ and he hasn’t swung at _me_.” 

“You own him Harvey,” she says like that’s meant to mean something, like its meant to protect Harvey from Mike’s anger. 

“Doesn’t mean anything when he’s angry. He punched my fridge the other day,” he says and Jessica raises an amused eyebrow, like she about to make a crack about the lack of use of Harvey’s fridge but then she sobers. 

“He wouldn’t punch you though...I’ve seen the way he looks at you,” she says with a wry smile and Harvey doesn’t quite know how to answer that. He’s saved by the phone ringing and Jessica gesturing for him to leave, “this isn’t finished Harvey,” she says before he leaves and Harvey nods, “Louis and Kyle are going to want something...probably from you.” 

Harvey sighs as she lifts the phone to her ear. She’s right, Louis is going to want something. He’s not going to let this go, especially when Harvey should have, by law, had Mike under control. 

...

Mike’s in Harvey’s office, sitting quietly on the couch but his leg is bouncing nervously and Donna is hovering like a worried mother hen when Harvey gets back. 

“What happened?” Harvey asks and Donna tactfully leaves, muttering something about holding Harvey’s calls and closes the door behind her. 

“I hit him,” Mike says and Harvey lets out a small laugh as he sits down next to him. Mike shifts, not closer or further away, just shifts like he’s not sure what direction to go in. 

“That much is obvious, kid, what I want to know is why?” Harvey asks, moving to catch his gaze and Mike looks at him with blank blue eyes. Harvey wonders how difficult it was for Mike to learn how to look impassive like that, because when he looks at Harvey for real, with emotion on his face, generally anger, Harvey can see it’s a natural state for him, that being a wide open book is what he finds easiest. He wishes Mike would feel comfortable enough with him to let him in, even just a little. 

“How much trouble am I in?” he asks, shrugging slightly and ignoring the question and Harvey let’s it go for now. Isn’t in the mood to push it. Not at the moment anyway. 

“I’ll sort it out,” Harvey replies, standing and Mike reaches out and curls his fingers around Harvey’s. 

“How much?” It’s the first time he’s touched Harvey willingly and Harvey stops, looks down at their hands. Mike’s skin is soft, he’s felt it before, but this is different, this is Mike’s hand covering Harvey’s, and Harvey feels like it’s a step forward. Harvey twitches his fingers experimentally and Mike lets it go like he’s been burnt. 

“Potentially a lot” Harvey admits, dragging in a slightly shaky breath, his skin still tingling where Mike had touched him and Mike nods, curling his lips inwards and pressing them together, “but I’ll sort it out, Mike, don’t worry, and technically, I’m in trouble, not you,” he says, smiling gently but Mike doesn’t smile back. 

“Because you should have me under control?” he asks pointedly and Harvey sighs. He spins his chair around and sits down, leaning back and hooking one leg over the other. 

“...Yeah,” he says finally and Mike nods once. 

“Sorry,” he says and Harvey wants to say something about him not having to apologise, wants to tell Mike that Kyle deserved it and it was totally within his rights to punch the little bastard’s lights out. 

“It’s ok,” he settles for instead and Mike looks a little more relaxed at that, “but do it again and _I_ will hit _you_ ,” Harvey adds with a smile and Mike smiles back, briefly, but it’s almost brilliant and Harvey feels his own widen. 

“You wouldn’t hit me,” Mike says, looking down at his hands, “that violence…it’s not in you,” he looks up again and Harvey cocks his head to the side. 

“How do you know?” he asks and Mike’s face softens almost imperceptibly, and if Harvey wasn’t so finely tuned to Mike’s facial expressions he wouldn’t have noticed. It helps that Mike doesn’t have that many, so Harvey can pick out when he does have one, when he moves his mouth in what Harvey’s comes to realise is a smile, or when he narrows his eyes slightly in anger. 

“Your eyes,” Mike says like it’s the most obvious answer in the world and Harvey blinks, “you can tell a lot about an Owner by their eyes,” Mike finishes, shrugging slightly, pretending that he hadn’t just admitted to trusting Harvey, even if just a little bit. 

“Good to know,” Harvey nods, looks away from him down to his computer and the stupid amount of messages in his inbox.

“You would fight if you had to,” Mike continues and Harvey looks back at him. Mike’s looking at the floor, but he’s talking loud and clear, “and you would fight to the death,” he looks up at that, squints at Harvey slightly like he’s seeing him in a new light, “but you prefer to use words,” he finishes mirroring Jessica’s earlier words about Lawyers. 

“And you?” Harvey asks, “that violence is in you?” 

“Like I said, I’ve been fighting my whole life,” Mike shrugs, simply, and Harvey wishes that he had been around when Mike needed someone in his life, that he had been able to sweep in a save the kid, although he probably wouldn’t have looked twice at a skinny 15 year old back then. 

“Well so have I. But as you said, I prefer to use words. You tell me which method you think is more effective,” Harvey says and Mike looks away. 

“Kyle said...” he starts.

“I don’t need to know right now,” Mike frowns in confusion, “I still have stuff to do here, but as soon as we get home you’re telling me what he said to get you so angry, ok?” Mike’s frown deepens. 

“Home?” he asks, like he’s sounding the word out in his mouth and Harvey smiles at him. 

“Yeah kid, home.” 

...

Mike spends the whole afternoon silent on the couch. And if Harvey wasn’t comfortable in the kid’s presence he would have found it unnerving that someone could be so quiet for so long. Donna comes in once or twice and he smiles at her, the smile that seems to be reserved only for her. And Harvey ignores the slight stab of jealousy at that. 

He’s thinking though, Mike is, sitting there and Harvey can tell his mind is churning. 

Halfway through the afternoon Harvey stands, hooks a finger at Mike and pushes him, when he stands, towards the book case. Mike smiles a small grateful smile as he runs his fingers over the spines and Harvey sits back at his desk, listening to Mike mumble the names of the books quietly to himself. 

He doesn’t read though, he picks a book, sits with it across his knees, and stares at it, his fingers poised to turn the page but he never does and Harvey finds the lack of movement from him irritating. 

“What’s on your mind kid?” he asks and Mike jumps at the unexpected noise. 

“Nothing,” he answers automatically and Harvey raises an eyebrow, looks back down at his brief. 

“Right, so I’m just imagining that you’re sitting their ruminating on something, am I?” Harvey asks, looks up quick enough to see a brief twitch of Mike’s lips but then he screws up his eyes, clamping them shut and pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes. 

“It’s never quiet,” he says, voice slightly muffled and Harvey frowns. Mike looks up, looks like a lost little child and Harvey has to stop himself from hauling Mike to his feet and pulling him close. 

“What’s never quiet?” 

“My head. It’s never quiet,” Mike says, then shakes his head, like he wants to clear it, and looks back down at the book, his eyes moving across the page quickly. He turns the page, scans across the next two pages and then his hand moves to turn the next one and something occurs to Harvey, why there always seems to be something going on behind the kid’s eyes, even if he’s feigning boredom or submission, why Mike doesn’t sleep and how he can devour books so quickly, why he could recite pretty much the entire Official Ownership Guidelines from memory. 

“Hey, you’ve read the Barbary Legal Handbook right?” Harvey asks and Mike looks up sharply, his knuckles going white as he grips at the book in his hands. 

“Yes,” he answers with a panic stricken look and Harvey walks over to the bookcase and pulls it from the shelf, opening it on a random page. 

“You read it like, what? Two weeks ago?” Mike nods once, looking warily at Harvey. Harvey picks a sentence in the middle of the page, “humour me,” and reads, “Civil liability associated with agency is based on several factors...” he looks pointedly at Mike. Mike closes his eyes and swallows but opens his mouth and speaks. 

“Including the deviation of the agent from his path and reasonable imprints of his agency on behalf of the plaintiff and the nature of the damages himself,” he says, without stumbling and he keeps his eyes on Harvey the whole time. 

“Jesus,” Harvey breathes out when Mike draws a breath in. 

“I have a good memory,” Mike tries to brush it off and Harvey slams the book closed, Mike jumps slightly. 

“That’s not good Mike, that’s eidetic,” Mike just shrugs like it means nothing, “you could have been anything you wanted with that mind,” Harvey says, hooking his finger at Mike who stands immediately, “you could have been free.” 

“What do you want me to say?” Mike asks and Harvey has an urge to touch him, to feel his skin under his hands for no reason other than he wants to. 

“What do you want to say?” Harvey asks and Mike looks like he’s about to close down and run so Harvey gives into his urge to touch and does just that, reaches out and cups Mike’s cheek in his hand, runs his thumb across Mike’s cheekbone gently. He knows that Mike doesn’t want pity, but he can’t help but feel sorry for the kid, who has a mind like no other, who lost everyone he cared about and who has seen the worst, the underbelly of society for too long. 

Mike always does the same thing when Harvey touches him, he lets out a small breath of surprise, and he blinks, parts his lips and if Harvey didn’t have a will of iron right now he would kiss him. Right there in the middle of the office with Donna no doubt looking in. He lets Mike go and Mike takes half a step back. 

“I made a mistake,” Mike says, “That’s what I want to say. I want to say that if I could turn back, have a do over, I would do things differently, and I wouldn’t be in this fucking mess, I wouldn’t have to school my thoughts and my expressions and try to make my fucking head quiet and I would...” he stops and bites on his lower lip, “I want to say thank you, I want to tell you that I want to kiss you right now but what I want, and what I want to say, is irrelevant,” Mike lets it all out in one go and Harvey, for the millionth time since Mike came into his life, doesn’t know what to say. He looks like he’s going to throw up, or run and never come back but he just stands straighter and stares at Harvey. 

Harvey can’t deny the urge to kiss Mike, to pull him close and cover his mouth with his own, to push him down on the couch and fuck him till Mike can’t remember his own name, but something inside of Harvey, and not just the fact that his office walls are made of glass, is stopping him from doing just that and Mike looks at him like he’s waiting for Harvey to do it and Harvey steps backwards, away from him because the kid’s too damn tempting. He knows that if he walks out of this room like he wants to, to put distance between them, Mike will shut down, but if he stays, he can’t be held responsible for his actions. He takes another step back and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“I know you want that too,” Mike says and takes a step towards Harvey. 

“Stop,” Harvey says and Mike stops, his face falls before he slips his mask on again, “just stop it. Not now, not here,” Harvey finishes and Mike swallows audibly. To Harvey’s own ears it sounds like he’s promising something, and he can’t do that, he can’t promise what he can’t give. He can’t give the kid what he wants because Harvey knows the second he starts he won’t be able to stop. And he wants Mike to want him, properly want Harvey, not just out of some misplaced gratitude or confusion going through his head right now. He wants Mike to want him in the same way Harvey wants Mike.

“What happened to submissive, Indentured Mike?” Harvey asks with a weak smile and Mike lifts his chin and crosses his arms. 

“You happened,” he snaps and stalks out before Harvey can answer. 

...

He doesn’t see Mike for the rest of the afternoon and the looks Donna gives him through the glass walls are enough to make Harvey realise that she’s hiding him, or at least keeping a watchful eye over him. 

“What did you do?” she asks, leaning against the door frame with her arms crossed. She frowns at him and Harvey sighs.

“You know very well what happened, you’re Donna, so can we spare the theatrics and not do this right now,” he says, ignoring her angry gaze and looking down at his computer. Donna makes a disapproving noise.

“That kid’s hurting Harvey, the least you could do is apologise,” she says and Harvey looks up at that. 

“For what? For saving his life? For getting him out of trouble with Louis and Kyle? For helping him? I’m not going to apologise for that Donna,” he replies, going back to his computer. The screen blurs in his vision and he rubs at his eyes. 

“No...for confusing him. Set ground rules Harvey, he needs them,” she spins on her heel and sits back down at her desk with one last scowl in his direction. He lets out a groan as he stands, he’s got work, too much on his mind, and the kid he bought a month ago is coming first. He can’t figure out when that happened, when Mike became that important in his life but he’s standing in front of Donna’s desk when he realises it, when it hits him like a sledgehammer to the gut. 

“Where is he?” he asks and Donna raises an eyebrow but doesn’t look up. 

“You don’t deserve to know,” she replies, typing furiously on her keyboard. Harvey sighs, and sinks down low enough to catch her eyes. She pointedly ignores him. 

“Donna...” he uses the tone he knows gets her irritated enough to look at him, the almost sing song voice he used to use at the DA’s office when he needed her to do something and wanted her to do his stuff first. She purses her lips and leans back in her chair and crosses her arms. 

“Did you know he got into Stanford?” she asks and Harvey stands upright and frowns. 

“What?” 

“Aged 15 he got into Stanford,” she says and Harvey feels his fingers tighten around to top of her cubicle. 

“Why didn’t he go?” he asks and Donna raises an eyebrow. 

“Aged 15, with no parents, no money? No one to look after him? Gee Harvey, I can’t imagine,” she rolls her eyes and goes back to her keyboard. 

“How did...” he starts and Donna looks up, pats his hand gently and looks patronisingly at him. 

“I’ve found, that if you’re nice, people open up to you,” she smiles gently and he frowns even more, comically so. 

“I’m nice...” he sulks and she pats his hand again. 

“No you’re not...” she reminds him and he laughs, feeling slightly lighter despite the startling discoveries from this afternoon. “He’s in with Jessica,” she says, letting his hand go and Harvey gives her a brief smile as she nods her head in that direction, “go.”

...

Mike’s got his head in a book and Jessica catches Harvey’s eye across the room as he hovers in the door way. Mike’s got his back to the door but he stiffens like he knows Harvey’s there and straightens his back. 

“Mike,” he doesn’t move, but turns his head far enough that Harvey can see the curve of his jaw, the faint smattering of blond stubble, the curve under his lower lip where Harvey just _knows_ his thumb will fit. Mike’s jaw muscles quiver as he clenches his teeth, “come on,” he hesitates, lets out a breath and closes the book he was reading and stands. Harvey nods his head in the direction of his office and Mike’s nostrils flare as the looks at Harvey, nods a quick thank you to Jessica and waits in the corridor for Harvey. 

“Thanks,” Harvey mutters and Jessica nods, lacing her fingers together and resting her chin on her hands. 

“I’ll see you _tomorrow_ ,” she stresses the word and it leaves no doubt in Harvey’s mind that he’s being sent home to deal with Mike, again. 

Donna is waiting outside in the corridor with Harvey’s briefcase and jacket, the coat that Harvey bought for Mike and she hands them over, smiles at Mike and gives him a quick wink, briefly touches his cheek and that reminds Harvey that he can still feel Mike’s skin under his hands as he pushes him into the elevator. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says quietly as the elevator gets to the ground floor and Harvey places a hand to his back, guides Mike out. 

“For what?” Harvey asks again. 

“For speaking out of turn. It won’t happen again,” he says, nodding, his features cleverly schooled and Harvey looks at him, tries to read something, _anything_ in his eyes. 

Harvey wants to answer him, wants to tell him that he doesn’t need to apologise, that speaking out of turn is what he wants from Mike, he wants a fight, an argument, he wants to fuck it out over the kitchen counter, and kiss Mike till he can see lust in Mike’s eyes rather than anger and confusion. But Mike strides towards the car, slips into the back seat and turns his face towards the window and Harvey can’t seem to find the words. 

Mike is silent the entire journey. Harvey can’t even hear him breathe in the elevator ride up the apartment and Harvey’s almost grateful for it, because he has no idea what he needs to say to mend this, to lay down the ground rules that Donna said Mike needs. 

Mike heads towards his bedroom when Harvey pushes the front door open, without backwards glance at Harvey and Harvey sighs heavily. 

“Uh-uh Mike...stay here,” Mike stops, turns, clasps his hands behind his back. 

“Yes Sir,” he says and Harvey feels his blood boil. 

“Dammit Mike, I told you not to call me that,” Mike doesn’t move, keeps his hands clasped behind his back and watches as Harvey moves forward. There’s something under Mike’s steady gaze that Harvey can’t quite read, something dark and its twisting in his eyes. “Be _you_ , Mike.” 

“I don’t know how,” he answers and if Harvey wasn’t a hardened, non emotional lawyer, he would weep for him, “I haven’t been allowed to be me for nine years. I know how to fight, and I know how to be fucked, I can’t remember anything else,” he says without any kind of emotion, blank face, blank tone of voice and Harvey wants to shake the real Mike lose. 

“Mike...” he starts and Mike unclasps his hands, hangs them down by his sides and Harvey takes that as a win for now, “I’m not like Jim Cleaver, you don’t have to be anyone else with me. I told you once before I want emotion from you,” Mike shifts on his feet and his mouth twitches. 

“Is that all you want from me?” he asks pointedly and Harvey lets him take a step forward, lets him come closer to him although that’s probably the worst thing to let Mike do right now. 

“Yes,” he says and Mike blinks, anger flooding his face for a brief moment before he stops walking towards Harvey and looks down at his feet. 

“At least Cleaver was honest about what he wanted,” he mutters, then lifts his head and stares at Harvey like a challenge. Somewhere in the back of his head Harvey knows he’s being played, he knows that Mike is pushing him but the thought that Mike could, at least for an instant, prefer Cleaver to him makes him to furious that he reaches out and wraps his fingers around Mike’s arms, hauls him close and Mike’s eyes widen slightly. 

“I’m not like him,” Harvey growls and Mike’s nostril flare, his tongue peaks out to lick at his lower lip. 

“I know, he would have fucked me already,” he replies and Harvey lets him go so sharply that Mike stumbles, keeps his balance by placing a hand out against Harvey’s chest and he lets his fingers curl against the shirt. 

“Is that what you want Mike? Me to fuck you? Huh?” Harvey asks, his voice low and dangerous and he hooks his fingers under Mike’s chin, lifts his head. Mike narrows his eyes and spins out of Harvey’s grasp. 

“You say you want to help me? Well fucking help me Harvey, stop pretending to be decent when we both know that you want to push me to my knees and fuck my mouth,” Mike shouts and something in Harvey snaps, hard enough that he hauls Mike close, with his hand tangled in Mike’s tie and presses his mouth to Mike’s. Mike lets out a surprised noise and clutches at him, fingers tight in Harvey’s shirt and he moans. The kiss is hard, punishing even, and Harvey feels his lips tingle when he pulls back and Mike looks at him with a look that’s a mixture of surprise and accomplishment. It was just a hard press of lips, Mike’s are now looking a little bruised, but Harvey licks at his own lips, tastes Mike on them and he’s so taken aback by his behaviour, the fact that he gave in when he promised himself he wouldn’t that he takes a step away and Mike clenches his hands by his sides, “you say you don’t want me but you kiss me? Your argument is not particularly compelling Harvey,” he says, a little breathlessly and Harvey runs a hand through his hair. “This is all I know, Harvey...I don’t know how to be anything else, apart from a fighter...Harvey help me...please.” 

“Mike...stop...” Harvey drops himself down onto the couch, runs a hand through his hair and licks his lips almost absently. He can still taste Mike on them, and wonders, briefly, before damping that thought down, if Mike’s mouth would taste the same as his lips. 

“I don’t think you want me to,” Mike says, dropping to his knees in front of Harvey. His hands reach out and he lets them rest, trembling slightly, on Harvey’s thighs. 

“Mike...” 

“Harvey...please,” he whispers as he rises up on his knees and leans forward, hovering his lips over Harvey’s. Harvey lifts his hands, wraps them around Mike’s arms to stop him coming close and he feels his small arms beneath his hands, the way the skin feels hot under his palms, and the hardness of bone under the thin skin.

“Goddammit Mike,” Mike moans as Harvey presses their lips together. Mike lets out a small noise, half contented groan, half surprised squeak and Harvey wants to hear that noise again, wants to hear all of Mike’s noises. He cups at Mike’s face, licks his tongue over Mike’s lips and Mike opens his mouth to let out a sigh and Harvey pushes in. Mike makes the noise again and Harvey tightens his fingers at the back of Mike’s head before he pulls away and Mike licks at his lips, pulls one of Harvey’s hands off his face. 

He holds Harvey’s hand, palm facing him and runs his thumbs over the soft skin, uncertainty washing over his face, like he doesn’t know what to do now he has Harvey here. Harvey curls his fingers, covers Mike’s with his own and lowers their hands between them. 

“Mike...” Mike frowns minutely but looks up at him, pitches forward slightly when Harvey lets go of his hand and he holds him still with a palm flush against his chest. 

“I haven’t...I don’t...” Mike starts, stumbles over what he wants to say and Harvey frowns, cups a hand around Mike’s face, runs his thumb over Mike’s bottom lip. 

“You haven’t done this for pleasure before, “ he doesn’t ask, he knows that by the shake in Mike’s hand, by the flushed colour of his face, the uncertainty in his eyes and if Harvey hadn’t been sure that he wasn’t going to fuck Mike until he knew that Mike wanted him, he would be sure now. He isn’t going to take that last shred of innocence, no matter how small it is, from Mike. 

“Not mine, anyway,” Mike admits, looking as his hand resting nervously on Harvey’s thighs. 

Harvey shuts his eyes, could he be that person? The one that Mike seemed to think he was, could he look after Mike in that way, hold himself back from fucking Mike into the couch, from loosing himself in Mike’s body? Because there was no way he was going to let go completely with Mike, not now at least, not now he has Mike’s shaking hands on him and Mike’s blue eyes staring up at him, trustful and wide. 

“It’s ok kid, I got you,” he says and Mike lowers his head, submits, “not like that though,” he says and Mike looks up, confusion flicking across his face. Harvey lifts his chin, runs the pad of his thumb down Mike’s throat, “come here,” he clarifies and Mike swallows against Harvey’s thumb, and stands. He shifts a little uncomfortably and Harvey smiles at him, hooks his fingers into Mike’s belt loops and tugs gently, “here.” 

Mike climbs into his lap, rests his hands on Harvey’s shoulders, his fingers twitching slightly against his shirt. 

Harvey’s never had to be gentle with someone, to take it easy, to reassure with touches before. His sex life doesn’t generally include that and if it does, he usually runs for the hills, but there’s something about the way Mike is looking down at him like he’s terrified but turned on and confused all at the same time that makes him place a hand to Mike’s lower back and pull his hips closer. Mike schools his features as Harvey lifts his hands to the buttons on Mike’s shirt and as Harvey scrapes his short nails over Mike’s skin, Mike pulls his bottom lip between his teeth with a bitten off gasp. 

Harvey pulls him closer, wraps an arm around his waist and stands long enough to lay them both back down, Mike’s back pressed into the couch and he looks up at Harvey with wide eyes, his hands resting on Harvey’s arms. Harvey sits back against Mike’s thighs and runs his fingers down Mike’s chest, scraping his nails across Mike’s nipples and Mike gasps, his fingers tightening against Harvey’s skin. Harvey leans forward, brushes his lips across the hollow at the base of Mike’s throat, whirls his tongue around the skin at the same time as his fingers dip below Mike’s waistband and Mike winds his hand into his hair, clutches at him and arches upwards. 

Mike is so responsive, every place Harvey touches, every flick of his fingers against skin, or lick of his tongue, Mike reacts and Harvey keeps having to remind himself that essentially, for Mike, this is his first time, to remind himself to take it slow, keep it about Mike. He pulls back, sits up and looks down at Mike as he undoes the button on Mike’s jeans. He doesn’t pull them down his thighs though, just pulls them open a little, leaning down to press a kiss to Mike’s hips and run his fingers over the base of Mike’s dick gently. Mike gasps, arches his hips upwards and Harvey presses his palm flat against his stomach, pushes him back down. 

“You like that?” he asks and Mike swallows, opens his eyes and nod. 

“Yes,” he says immediately, a conditioned response, and Harvey stops, pulls his hand out of Mike’s boxers. 

“No...do _you_ like that?” he asks again and Mike shakes his head as if to clear it. 

“I...I don’t know,” he says finally and Harvey leans down, kisses him gently, even though he wants to kiss him hard and fast, lick into his mouth and rock down against Mike’s hips. 

“Ok...you tell me when something feels good, ok?” Harvey says, nudging his nose against Mike’s and Mike nods. Harvey pushes his hand into Mike’s boxers again, fingers sliding over slightly damp skin and he curls his fingers around Mike’s dick gently and Mike lets out a noise that sounds like he’s dying, his hands clutching at Harvey’s hair. 

“That,” he says and Harvey chuckles against his neck. 

“Most guys like that,” he says and he feels Mike swallow against his lips. He whines low in his throat when Harvey uncurls his fingers to push the jeans and boxers down one handed but grunts gently as Harvey wraps his fingers around him again and twists his hand slightly, running it up the surprising length of him. 

“That,” Mike gasps, whole body arching and shaking at the same time as Harvey runs his thumbnail across the slit in the top of Mike’s dick and Mike nearly bites through his own lip. 

Mike’s hand in warm against his arm, the other one tangled in his hair and Harvey twists his hand again, rocks his own hips gently down, licks a line up Mike’s throat and Mike stills suddenly, hand on his arm pushing rather than clutching. 

“No...stop...I,” Mike starts and Harvey looks down at him, runs a thumb across his cheekbone as Mike’s chest heaves. 

“It’s ok, kid, I’ve got you,” Harvey mutters and Mike snaps his eyes open, confusion swirling in them and Harvey gets it, he’s never had this, this gentle attention, focused energy designed to drawn out pleasure rather than pain and he’s confused, feels vulnerable, stripped bare and left wide open, “let go.” 

Mike lets out a shaky breath and Harvey kisses him, licks gently into his mouth and swallows Mike's quiet moan as Harvey draws his hand upwards and palms the tip of his dick. Harvey can feel the tension drain away from Mike’s body, as the shaking starts again. His hips twitch, chase the friction of Harvey’s hand and lets himself press his lips to Harvey’s jaw. 

Mike lets out a noise that could be _that_ or a desperate groan and Harvey twists his hand once more, kisses Mike as he tightens his grip along Mike’s dick and drags his hand upwards. And Mike comes, shuddering, spilling hot and sticky over Harvey’s hand, his fingers tangled in Harvey’s hair. 

There’s a startled look in his eyes when Harvey pulls up enough to look down at him and Harvey smiles gently and the look bleeds out, Mike’s eyes slip shut and he grunts, jerks under Harvey as Harvey strokes gently once then pulls away completely. 

“That,” Mike mutters sleepily, his eyes closing and Harvey runs his fingers across Mike’s forehead. 

“Yeah kid, I like that too.”


	5. Chapter 5

Harvey doesn’t sleep after he pulls a blanket over Mike and leaves him on the couch, his mind too busy to shut down, his skin still buzzing and his hands smell like Mike and he can still taste him on his lips. He grabs his whiskey and a glass and heads over to his desk, pulling out files and law books from the bookshelf before he sits down. 

Mike lets out a small noise, a slight moan, and Harvey catches the shift in his body, they way his head tosses to the side and back again as a frown passes over his face. Mike’s body looks relaxed, his arm thrown over his head resting against the armrest of the couch, fingers curled inwards slightly. They twitch as another frown flickers across his face and his forehead doesn’t smooth out, stays slightly creased but he’s sleeping so Harvey will take that as a win right now. 

He tries to find a loophole, something somewhere in the miles of red tape and stupid laws that bind Indentured to the Owners, anything that they can use to crack the seemingly water tight case for owning other people. It’s always sickened him, always made him angry in a way that nothing else ever has before, but he’s never had the drive, the inclination to want to do something about it. 

That was until Mike came along. 

Mike with his bright blue eyes that screamed of a natural defiance dampened down under beatings. Mike who could move like liquid and had probably killed with those small, seemingly delicate hands. Mike who had a brain like nothing Harvey had ever know. Mike who sounded like he was dying when Harvey kissed him. 

And Harvey somehow ended up owning his own Indentured who looked at him with a mixture of confusion, anger and admiration. And he found the drive to do something about it, if only for Mike, to try and figure out a way to put an end to this law, this practice of owning people and treating them like chattel. 

Mike stirs again, cries out quietly and Harvey runs a hand over his face before he stands and makes his way over to the couch and crouches down in front of it. There’s a sheen of sweat across Mike’s forehead and he writhes under the blanket, eyes moving under flickering eyelids. He lays a hand across Mike’s forehead, strokes his fingers through his hair and Mike calms, lets out a minute sigh and settles back into sleep. 

A few hours later and Harvey’s eyes are burning, the words of the various books swimming in front of him as a pale light starts to creep in from the windows. Mike stirs, drags in a breath and sits, rubbing a hand across his face in a way that makes him look impossibly young and vulnerable. He turns and catches sight of Harvey and looks down at the floor, a faint blush colouring his cheeks, as if he’s remember the way he offered himself to Harvey last night. 

“I would say morning but it’s not light enough for that...so...hi,” Harvey says, looking back down at the blurring words on the page and he hears Mike stand, a audible pop as he clicks his back and Harvey looks up in time to catch a strip of skin between the hem of Mike’s shirt and boxers. 

“Hi,” he says quietly, clasping his hands behind his back and lifting his arms, stretching out muscles no doubt cramped up from sleeping on a couch, no matter how comfortable and expensive it is. 

“You slept,” Harvey says because he can’t think of anything else to say with the memory of Mike’s cock in his hand and Mike nods tightly as he walks over to the desk. 

“I did...” he says, pressing his hands against the mahogany and leaning forward slightly, squinting at the books, “what are you doing?” 

“Trying to help you,” Harvey replies, looking away from Mike’s lips. He can still remember the taste of them, the way they felt soft against his own, soft and willing and...

“Really?” Mike interrupts his thoughts, standing back and frowning at him, like he can’t imagine why anyone would want to help him. 

“Yes really. Did you think it was all just words to get into your pants? You know technically I don’t have to sweet talk you into bed?” Harvey asks with a raised eyebrow and Mike blushes again, just a faint colouring across his cheeks but Harvey has to admit the colour suits him better than the purple and yellow of old bruises. 

“I...” Mike starts and runs a hand through his hair again, his fingers shake slightly. 

“So far the law is airtight,” Harvey interrupts and Mike looks relieved for a second, before frowning, “no loopholes to speak of. So I think our best bet is to petition for a counter law, to try and outlaw Owners rather than overturn the whole process on a legality, what do you think?” Mike’s frown deepens like he can’t quite believe Harvey is asking his opinion but he crosses his arms across his chest and takes a defensive stance for a reason Harvey can’t quite fathom. 

“What do I think? I think it’s a lost cause,” he says and Harvey frowns himself then. Not for the first time he wants to shake Mike, tell him that there are actually good people in the world that want to help because it’s the right thing to do, not for some ulterior motive, but his mind goes back to Mike shaking under his hands, the hot mess between his fingers as Mike shuddered apart and realises that he’s taken advantage of the kid, when he said he wouldn’t, and for that moment he’s no worse than Cleaver. 

“Lost causes are the only ones worth fighting for,” he says quietly, looking back down at his book and it doesn’t surprise him that Mike lets out a quiet “huh,” before he steps back and leans against the back of the couch. 

“Clarence Darrow,” he says and Harvey wants to kiss him for being so brilliant. He settles on nodding instead and leans back in his chair and crossing his arms across his chest. 

“Yeah I thought it appropriate considering he was a lawyer,” he says and Mike’s lips curl slightly at the corner. 

“He defended murderers,” he says with a slightly amused raised eyebrow. 

“It was only 2 murderers, it’s not like he made a habit out of it. He also worked for the American Civil Liberties Union,” Harvey replies, grinning up at him and throws a book across the table at him. Mike catches it with lightening reflexes. 

“Give me a hand will you,” he says and he doesn’t miss the flicker of surprise that runs across Mike’s face.

“Me?” 

“I don’t see any other genius with an eidetic memory and who knows the system inside out around here, do you?” Harvey asks looking around and Mike sighs, pulls a chair from the dining table round in front of the desk.

“I guess not,” he replies self-sacrificially with a small smile curling at the corner of his lips. 

“Then sit your butt down and help me figure out a way to get you free,” Harvey says and he tries to ignore the way his stomach cramps when Mike sits down immediately, looking pointedly at Harvey before swallowing and looking down at the book in his hands. His face sobers and he bites on his bottom lip. 

“Kyle was rude about you,” he says and Harvey doesn’t even look at him, just keeps scanning the pages in front of him.

“Was he now?” 

“He said...he asked...” Mike says and Harvey does look up at that, reaches across the desk although he can’t quite reach Mike to touch him. Mike leans forward slightly like he can’t help himself, but he doesn’t reach out. 

“Mike,” he urges and Mike swallows, drags a deep breath in and stands, puts the book on the seat and runs his palms across the tops of his thighs, like they’re clammy. 

“He asked what you made me do, and said that he always knew you had the perversion to be an Owner, asked if he bought me what I would do for him,” he says quickly looking down at his feet as he makes his way around the desk. Harvey turns his chair automatically as Mike gets closer and his legs fall open as Mike steps towards him. 

“That little shit,” he mutters as Mike slips to his knees between Harvey’s thighs. He looks up at him with wide eyes, a look of concentration flickers across his face as his hands slide up Harvey’s thighs. “Mike...” he warns and Mike looks away, down at one of his hands on Harvey’s thigh and there’s an almost startled look in his eyes, like he can’t quite believe he’s doing this. 

“I told him you didn’t make me do anything,” he says quietly, spreading his fingers out, his thumbs running along the inseam of Harvey’s pants, “that you were a good man. He laughed so I hit him,” his hands move to Harvey’s button, and Harvey feels his stomach muscles twitch in anticipation. 

“I’m not a good man,” he says and Mike lets out a small amused noise. 

“Yes you are,” he says as he flicks the jeans open and looks up at Harvey as he pulls the zipper down, the noise loud in the now startlingly quiet room, “you could have punished me for hitting Kyle. You could made money from me fighting. You could have fucked me into the couch last night but you didn’t.” 

“Mike...” Harvey stops his hands from creeping into his pants by covering them with his own and Mike frowns slightly.

“And I know you wanted to,” he says tugging on his hands but Harvey just holds on. He’s tasted Mike, he knows the noise Mike can make in the back of his throat when he comes, he doesn’t know if he can hold back now he has that knowledge. 

“I want to when you want me to,” Harvey says and Mike gives his hands another sharp tug and they slip out from Harvey’s. He pushes himself up and spans his hands across Harvey’s hips, thumbs slipping under Harvey’s shirt and rubbing against skin. 

“I want you to,” Mike says, sure and strong and eyes trained on Harvey’s so intense that Harvey has to look away, his eyes falling on Mike’s lips as Mike’s tongue flicks out against them. 

“No, you think you want me to,” Harvey says, rasps out against his suddenly dry throat and Mike lets go of his hips.

“I’m not a fucking child Harvey,” he spits and Harvey has to hold himself back from kissing the anger out of Mike’s body, or from using it to get Mike to kiss him back with the fierceness he feels in him sometimes. 

“I know that,” he says with a wry smile, looking down pointedly at Mike’s crotch and back up to his face. Mike’s cheeks are flushed whether in anger or embarrassment Harvey’s not sure, “but you’ve found yourself somewhere safe, and you’re as free as you can be and it’s easy to mistake gratitude for something else,” anger flicks across Mike’s face and he pulls back. Harvey would rather not go to work sporting a black eye so he tries to placate the best he can, because he’s not about to try and kiss Mike right now no matter how much he wants to. He reaches out and wraps his fingers around Mike’s wrists, squeezes gently, “I do want you. But _you_ not someone else, Mike who irritates the hell out of me, who looks like he wants to punch my lights out sometimes, free Mike. So, are you going to help me get this turned around so I can fuck you the way I want to or not?” he asks and he sees, and feels, the anger drain from Mike’s body. He sways slightly, his eyes shutting at the same time as his mouth falls open slightly and _God_ he has no idea how tempting he is. When he opens his eyes, his features are schooled carefully but there is a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You’re an asshole, you know that?” he says and Harvey is slightly taken aback at the upfront attitude he suddenly seems to have developed, but he can’t deny that the slightly twinkle in Mike’s eyes in an incredible turn on. 

“It may have been bought to my attention once or twice,” he replies and Mike snorts, stands and picks up the book from the chair. He chooses the couch in favour of the chair and curls into the corner like a contortionist, with the book over his knees and a slight frown of concentration wrinkling across his forehead. 

“I still don’t get why you’re trying to help,” Mike mutter’s glancing briefly at Harvey, “but...thank you.” 

“You’re welcome.” 

...

“Where’s Mike?” 

“Good morning to you too, Donna,” Harvey takes the coffee offered to him from her hands and smiles at her as she raises an eyebrow. “I left him at home,” he says once he’s swallowed the burning hot liquid, trying to erase the taste of Mike from his mouth so he can concentrate for the rest of the day. He’d left Mike at home with a book across his knees and a lingering yet chaste kiss on his lips, one that seemed to scream of promise and Mike had moaned quietly as he pulled away and it seems to Harvey even harder not to touch him now that he knows what Mike’s skin feels like. Mike had chased away the confusion on his face and smiled slowly, fingers playing against the lapel of Harvey’s jacket as he leant down to kiss him. 

“Is that wise?” 

“You’d rather he was here and being watched like a hawk by Louis and badgered by Kyle?” Harvey asks and Donna screws up her face and she pounds one fist against the palm of the other hand. Harvey laughs and pats her on the shoulder, “easy tiger.” 

“Did he tell you what Kyle said?” She asks and Harvey raises an eyebrow over the top of his coffee cup. 

“He told me. How do you know everything?” Donna shrugs an elegant shoulder and mimes zipping her lips shut as she sits down and smiles enigmatically up at him. 

“Jessica wants to see you when you have a minute. So does Louis,” she says handing him a pile of files, the way she says Louis, along with her eye roll, makes Harvey smile as he nods and walks into his office. 

Jessica finds him around midday, raises her eyebrow and hooking a finger at him through the glass walls and he sighs to himself, pushes himself upright and follows her down to her office. 

“So...” she starts, perching herself on her desk and crossing her arms, “have you decided what to do with him?” She doesn’t have to say Mike’s name, Harvey gets it and he should probably be worried about how Mike’s managed to worm his way in, not only to Harvey’s life, but everyone around him as well. 

“You make it sound like he’s a stray puppy,” Harvey says and Jessica lets out a small laugh. 

“Well...if the shoe fits...” She smirks and Harvey narrows his eyes at her. 

“What does that make me?” He asks and she laughs gently. 

“A big hearted idiot?” She smiles at him, pushing herself off the desk and patting him on the cheek gently as she walks by him to her table and pours herself a glass of water. 

“Thanks. And by the by, He’s helping me figure out how to get a new law passed to get the whole situation made illegal,” he says and Jessica’s face is a picture, one of surprise and a little bit of awe. 

“You never do anything by halves do you?” She says, slipping behind the desk to pull out her chair. She sits and laces her hands together, perching her chin on her fingers. 

“Not when I can help it,” he says and she rolls her eyes good naturedly. “Listen, I know I’m the best, but you need to give Louis more of my cases, when you can, I need as much free time as possible on this,” the look on her face is the same one she gets whenever Harvey tells her what to do, but she smiles at him and leans back, drumming her fingers once against the desk. 

“Oh you think that’s how it works?” Harvey grins and she sighs, pressing into the bridge of her nose before looking back at him, “you can unload one or two cases onto Louis, but Harvey, you’re going to need his help on this,” Harvey makes a face, and even though he cant see it himself he knows he looks like a child being told to go wash their hands. 

“Really?” 

“Yes really. He has more experience at this kind of thing than you do. So try to swallow that _huge_ ego of yours and ask him for help,” She says with an amused look, one that Harvey knows is because she doesn’t actually think he’ll do it. 

“My _huge_ ego is totally deserved,” he replies and she snorts in the inelegant way that makes her seem less like an onyx statue and more like the warm person he knows lives under her skin. 

“That may be, doesn’t mean it’s any less huge,” she says, idly flipping through a file on her desk. “What have you done with Mike today?” 

“He’s at home,” she raises her eyebrow at the use of the word _home_ but Harvey ignores it, “by the by, Kyle totally deserved that punch,” she doesn’t ask why, just nods at him across the space between them, a soft look on her face. 

“I’ve no doubt.” 

 

...

“Your wife just sent me a really funny joke about the size of your penis,” Harvey walks into Louis’s office holding his phone and with his patented shit eating grin on his face. Louis looks up from his computer and rolls his eyes with his patented look of disgust. 

“I’m not married Harvey,” he says with a sigh and looks back down at his computer. 

“I know...yet it’s still funny,” Harvey says, sitting himself down onto Louis’s couch. Louis raises his eyebrow expectantly and sits back in his chair. 

“What do you want? Come to apologise for what your...”

“Careful Louis,” Harvey warns, his voice going low and dangerous and it’s weird how even when Mike isn’t here, he still makes Harvey possessive and protective. 

“...Mike...did to Kyle?” Louis finishes, the ever present look of disgust on his face. 

“No. Mike told me what happened and your Associate deserved it. If I had my way, Mike would have another go at him. And I told you it’s my place to be punished not his. Which leads me swiftly to why I am here,” Harvey says, inspecting his nails and then brushing an imaginary piece of fluff from his pants. 

“Oh?” Louis tries to sound uninterested by Harvey can hear it in his voice, and see it in the way his face pinches slightly and he leans forward. 

“My punishment is asking for your help,” Harvey says and Louis looks like he wants to laugh, but he sits back and folds his arms, narrows his eyes slightly. “Look, you’re a better man that you pretend to be so why don’t we give up this pretence and you help me out with trying to pass a new law,” 

“I’m assuming that this is a new law to make owning Indentured’s illegal?” Louis says and there is something like glee behind his eyes. Louis has never made his feelings on Indentured secret, he hates it almost as much as Jessica does, but he’s not as willing to push his feelings aside for the sake of business as Harvey is, or as charmingly against it was Jessica is.

“You assume correctly,” Harvey say and Louis purses his lips slightly, his eyes twinkling. 

“You do realise you will be stepping on very important, very powerful toes?” he asks and Harvey nods. 

“I’m counting on it,” Louis lets out a small smile, before turning back to his computer and feigning disinterest. 

“Ok then. What do you need?” he asks in a bored tone and Harvey, not that he would ever admit it, feels a desire to hug him. 

...

By the end of the day Harvey’s leg is bouncing under his desk when Donna comes in to say goodbye and Harvey wonders if it’s just lack of coffee and movement or if it’s the need to touch Mike. 

“I’ll give you a lift home,” Harvey offers and Donna raises her eyebrow as he grabs his things. 

“The last time you gave me a lift home was...oh...never,” she says and Harvey pulls his office door close and locks it behind them. 

“It’s usually because you slope off far too early for me to give you a lift home,” he jokes as she presses the call button for the elevator and glares at him. He laughs, pressing his hand to her lower back and guiding her in. 

“You know, its ok, you get back to Mike, I’ll take a cab,” she says, patting his arm as the elevator grinds to a halt and the doors slide open. 

“Sure?” She smiles easily at him and he knows she can see the slight tension in him, the fact that his hands have been itching to touch Mike all day. 

“He’s probably going crazy without you anyway,” she says in a way that sounds like she knows Harvey’s been crazy all day. “Don’t think I don’t see the way you both relax when you’re around each other,” she says pointing her finger at him. 

“I don’t...” he starts, going to the natural self defence but Donna raises her eyebrow and he sighs, runs a hand through his hand and she raises her arm to hail a cab. 

“Why do I feel a cupid moment coming on?” A cab pulls up next to her and something about the way she holds herself makes the driver get out and open the door for her. Harvey’s seen it a number of times, and is seriously starting to think that she practices some form of dark arts, “night Harvey,” she waves an elegant hand through the window as the cab takes off down the road. 

...

It’s come to his attention on more than one occasion that he’s well and truly done for when it comes to Mike. Not only is the kid incredibly tempting, especially now he’s putting on weight and his ribs don’t stick out as much, and the muscles definition that’s still there isn’t as hard, his hips don’t stick out as much, but his mind is what Harvey finds attractive as well, the way he can recall everything, his mind whirring and never stopping and Harvey wants to make it stop, wants to figure out how to get Mike to just _feel_. 

The living room is empty when he gets back, book strewn all over the coffee table, and Harvey can hear the sound of Mike’s fist hitting the punching bag before he even shuts the front door behind him. 

“Dammit,” he mutters, making his way across the living room. He had thought they had turned a corner on this, on Mike letting out his irritation on the punching bag, on broken skin across his knuckles and bruised fingers. 

As Mike spins under the swinging bag, Harvey notices the set look on his face, but Mike doesn’t seem to notice him, just straightens up and punches it again, his fist hitting it with a smack that sounds loud in the room. As usual he’s got his shirt off, and the lights from the city stream in through the window and throw highlights across his body where the sweat beads between his pectorals. Harvey wants to lean back against the door frame and just watch him, the way he moves, the hard line of his jaw, but there’s a pent up aggression in the way he holds himself, like he’s holding himself back from beating the bag to a pulp and Harvey clears his throat loud enough that it breaks through Mike’s concentration and he stops almost immediately, spins on his heel and has his hands on Harvey’s lapels before Harvey can even think. His fingers clench as he stares at Harvey, dragging air into his lungs in with long controlled breaths.

“Hey,” Harvey mutters quietly, covering Mike’s hands with his own, “you ok?” Mike shakes his head once but steps back and lowers his hands. 

“Sorry...yes I’m fine,” he gets out, a little breathlessly and Harvey hooks his fingers under Mike’s chin and lifts his head. 

“Mike...do we need to have that conversation about you being honest with me again?” Mike’s lips flicker at the corner and he shakes his head, and Harvey’s fingers slide across the skin under his chin. “What’s up?” 

“It’s just...” Mike starts, pauses and takes a breath, “I don’t know how to do this,” he shrugs helplessly and Harvey takes a step closer, he wants to tug him closer, wants to curl his fingers into the waistband on Mike’s pants, feel the slight sheen of sweat against his knuckles, but he keeps his hands to himself and Mike’s rolls his shoulders in a way that Harvey’s come to realise means he doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands either. 

“How to do what?” Harvey asks and Mike looks up at him, rubs at the back of his neck. 

“This...us...I don’t know what you expect from me now, after...after last night. And I’ve been here all day just thinking about it, and I don’t know if you have been, or if it was just because you were feeling sorry for me, or if there’s something else or...” Harvey slides his hand around Mike’s neck and pulls him close, cuts off the words with his lips pressed to Mike’s and he lets out a surprised noise as Harvey runs his tongue across his bottom lip. 

“Does that answer your question,” Harvey breathes against Mike’s mouth, and pulls back far enough to see doubt flicker across Mike’s face, “listen kid,” he says quietly, pulling Mike closer and pressing his lips to the slight scattering of stubble along his jaw, Mike shivers slightly, “I’m about to be as honest as I’ve ever been with someone so listen good,” he runs his tongue along the shell of Mike’s ear and Mike lets out a noise that sounds like something halfway between and shriek and a moan, “I find it hard to think around you,” he bites down gently on Mike’s ear lobe and Mike jerks his hips forward, “you’re too tempting for your own good,” Harvey mouths at Mike’s pulse and his fingers tighten in the back of Harvey’s shirt, “and I want nothing more than to fuck you till we both pass out,” Mike shivers again and arches slightly as Harvey sucks the skin of Mike’s neck into his mouth and worries it between his teeth, “but, until I know, one hundred per cent that you’ll let me because you want me, rather than because I...” he pauses, blows cold air against Mike’s wet skin and Mike lets out a full body shudder, “ _own_ you, I’m not going to,” Mike takes a breath in, makes an aborted attempt to speak before his words die in his throat as Harvey licks a long line up it, “I need to know for me, Mike...ok?” 

“Would it help if I tell you I _do_ want you?” Mike replies quietly, arching his hips into Harvey and Harvey doesn’t miss the hardness against his thigh, he slides his hand down Mike’s back and tugs him closer and Mike groans, his eyes slipping shut, “that I can’t stop thinking about your hands on me?” he opens his eyes and Harvey groans, pulling him even closer and kissing him hard. 

“I’ve created a monster,” Harvey mutters, thinking back to weeks ago when Mike wouldn’t have been this bold, when he would have stood with barely concealed anger and dropped his head, hands clasped behind his back, and Harvey has to admit to liking this version better, even if it makes him harder to resist. “It would help,” he says, pushing Mike away slightly, Mike’s fingers clench harder into the back of his jacket and Harvey gives up pushing, “still doesn’t mean I’m going to break my own rules...so stop trying to make me, Rookie,” he says, and its meant to be a joke, meant to lighten the rapidly growing sexual tension in the room but Mike’s face grows blank in a second and Harvey realises what he’s done. “Shit, Mike...I’m...” he’s at a loss for words and Mike shrugs in the way he would have weeks ago. “Mike...look at me.” 

There’s a slightly haunted look in his eyes when he lifts his gaze and Harvey wants to punch himself for calling Mike by the nickname Cleaver did, for bringing back all the memories he’s tried to erase for the past month and a bit and with one word he’s bought them all crashing back down. Mike’s hands are shaking by his side and Harvey reaches out. He flinches slightly but allows Harvey to tug him closer. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think,” Mike nostrils flare and he swallows audibly. 

“It’s ok.” 

“No kid, it’s not. I’m sorry.” 

“Harvey...it’s ok,” Mike says again and Harvey is struck dumb by the way Mike says his name, he doesn’t say it often, he can probably count on one hand the amount of times he’s said it, and twice was last night. It sounds different on Mike’s lips and he can’t really explain how. “You’re not him,” Mike says quietly, looking away from Harvey’s gaze and down to his hand, playing against the lapel of Harvey’s jacket, “I know that...just...” he looks back up and leans forward, presses his mouth to Harvey’s and pushes his tongue in and Harvey can’t do anything except kiss him back and curl his arms around Mike’s slim waist, “let me touch you...please,” Mike breathes into his mouth. 

“Mike, I...” Harvey tries to push him away but Mike holds on, his fingers balling the material of Harvey’s highly expensive suit.

“Let me,” Mike says again, quietly, letting Harvey go and sliding down his body to his knees. Harvey’s also known, since he came into his life, that Mike moves like liquid, but he’s never seen anything as hot as Mike slipping to his knees and keeping his eyes trained on Harvey the entire time. 

“Fuck,” Harvey can’t help himself, can’t help his hips from arching forward as Mike’s hands unclasp his belt and it’s pulled from the loops one by one. Harvey winds his fingers into Mike’s hair and tugs gently, “Mike.” 

“It’s ok,” Mike says again, pulling the zipper down. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. His palms are warm against Harvey’s hips, sliding under his shirt tails and pressing into his skin, fingers spanning out under the now open waistband on Harvey’s pants, he leans forward slightly, presses his lips to the bone under Harvey’s skin, nips gently there and Harvey lets out a groan as Mike swirls his tongue over the hip bone. 

“Mike,” Harvey lets it slip from between his lips and Mike pulls back, blows gently against the wet skin like Harvey did earlier and looks up at him with a slightly flush against his cheeks. 

“It’s ok,” he says once more time and Harvey doesn’t know when this became about Mike soothing him, but he can see lust in Mike’s eyes and he’s too far gone now to stop this. Mike pushes his boxers down, slides his hands down Harvey’s thighs and back up again to grip at his skin as he wets his lips and leans forward, letting the tip of Harvey’s dick run along his bottom lip. He looks up at Harvey like he’s asking permission one last time before opening his mouth and swallowing Harvey down whole. 

Harvey chases away the feeling that Mike’s done this before, the absolutely knowledge, the almost blinding jealousy that Cleaver no doubt experienced this and curls his fingers into Mike’s hair as Mike presses his nose to his stomach and hums. He pulls back, sucks hard on the tip, then swirls his tongue over the slit and Harvey’s knees nearly give out. Mike swipes his thumbs over Harvey’s hip bones, digging his fingers in as he sinks back down and hums again and Harvey’s almost embarrassed to say that’s all it takes to have him coming hard into the back of Mike’s throat. Mike closes his eyes as he swallows and then his tongue darts out to the side of his mouth and Harvey’s hauling him to his feet and kissing the taste of himself from Mike’s mouth. 

Mike groans but Harvey’s is suddenly well aware of the lack of hard dick pressing into his thigh and he pulls back and runs his thumbs across Mike’s cheeks. 

“Don’t...ever feel you have to do something you don’t want to,” he says and Mike frowns slightly in confusion. 

“I did want to...just because,” he gestures helplessly at his crotch, “doesn’t mean...” he sighs heavily, “I’m not broken Harvey,” he says, his hands cupping at Harvey’s elbows and Harvey presses their foreheads together, “you don’t have to treat me like I am,” his breath is hot against Harvey’s lips. 

“I know,” Harvey replies, “I just...” Mike pulls back and looks at him, “God you have no idea the things I want to do to you,” Mike blushes, looks down at his feet and when he looks back up again, there’s a tiny smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“Well we better get that law passed then, hadn’t we?”


	6. Chapter 6

Mike has put himself at a distance. But it’s subtle enough that Harvey hasn’t noticed until now. But he doesn’t sit quite as close, doesn’t touch Harvey any more, not that he did that much, but he doesn’t do it at all anymore. And he doesn’t look at Harvey as much either. And Harvey’s not sure whether Mike’s doing it for his own good, or for Harvey’s. 

And as much as it’s hard to be in the same space at Mike and not touch him, not kiss him, not make him fall to pieces with just hands, it’s easier, as Mike has taken the temptation away. 

They’ve been working hard for the last few months, Louis with them in the office, and Mike still sits a little close to Harvey whenever Louis is around, like he still thinks Louis is going to punish him for punching Kyle, not close enough to touch though. Even though Harvey has told him time and time again that’s done with, Mike’s hands still shake slightly as he turns the pages on huge legal handbooks. 

Louis, god love him, gets a Senator involved, one who evidently owes him a favour if the way she looks at Louis with disgust is anything to go by and Harvey has to admit that he has gone up in Harvey’s estimation since then. Mike wins the Senator over though, a late middle aged woman with immaculate suits, short tightly curled hair, and pearl earrings, with a smile, almost immediately and she has, from then on, been the staunchest supporter in this venture. Due to the favour Anne Stanton owes Louis, Harvey doesn’t know he never asks, the bill gets introduced on fast track and three weeks after they put the finishing touches to it, giving it to Mike for a final proof read, it’s been presented to the committee and all they can do is wait for it to pass the First Reading. 

It’s a waiting game and Mike seems to understand that, no matter how much his whole body vibrates whilst they wait to hear any news and Harvey wants to pull him close, run a hand down his spine and calm him down with words whispered into his ear but he just presses his fingers to the back of Mike’s neck instead. Mike arches into the touch slightly, cocking his head to the side to allow Harvey to slide his fingers around Mike’s throat. Mike let’s his head fall back against the couch and Harvey presses his lips to Mike’s forehead before pulling away and Mike shifts, sits back up and opens his eyes, shifts against like he’s embarrassed at letting Harvey touch him. 

“What’s going on kiddo?” Harvey asks, twisting the cap off a bottle of beer a handing it to Mike. Mike accepts it, wraps his fingers around the neck and runs his other hand up through the condensation on the glass. Harvey twists the cap off another bottle and sits on the couch opposite Mike. 

“What do you mean?” He asks, not looking at Harvey and Harvey suddenly wishes he was sitting close enough to hook his fingers under Mike’s chin. 

“Mike,” Mike frowns, sighs, looks up at him. 

“You say you can’t trust yourself around me,” Mike says and Harvey nods in agreement even though it wasn’t a question, “did you ever think that I can’t trust myself around you?” In all honesty, no, Harvey never thought that. He never thought that Mike would want him enough that it would cloud his judgement the way it clouds Harvey’s. Mike’s eyes don’t waiver from Harvey’s as he stands and steps around the coffee table, leaning down to put his beer on a coaster before shrugging off his jacket and climbing onto Harvey’s lap. Harvey leans back, one hand playing against Mike’s hip, the other brings his bottle to his mouth and he takes a sip, to stop himself pulling Mike down and kissing him. “You think I don’t know what I want but I do, and...It’s hard to not...I have to stop myself from begging you to fuck me,” Mike says, running his fingers through Harvey’s hair before uncurling his fingers from around the bottle and leaning back far enough to place it on the coffee table. 

“Jesus Christ Mike,” Harvey lets out as Mike’s fingers play over the buttons on Harvey’s shirt. He took his tie off a few hours ago, as they trailed into the apartment, both exhausted and Harvey more than a little irritated at having to do all the work generating public support. There’s a triangle of skin exposed which Mike is staring at, his fingers now ghosting over the dip at the base of Harvey’s throat and Harvey tightens his grip against Mike’s hip, “stop.” 

Mike sighs as Harvey pushes him off and stands. 

“I don’t have a will power of iron Mike, so you’ve got to stop pushing,” Harvey pushes his hands through his hair, fingers sticking in the product he uses, but he tugs them free and Mike’s glaring at him when he looks back. 

“Why?” he demands, standing himself and walking towards Harvey. Harvey makes it to the kitchen and opens the fridge. 

“I’ve told you why,” he says and Mike slams his hand against the open door and it slides out of Harvey’s grip and slams shut, with a clatter of glass bottles from the inside. 

“No,” he practically shouts, vibrating with anger and probably need, “you spouted a bunch of pseudo bullshit about how you want me free and you want me to want you, well guess what Harvey? I do, I have since I first saw you. So what are you so fucking afraid of?” Mike demands and Harvey blinks. There’s a fire in Mike’s eyes, one Harvey hasn’t seen since he last tried to beat the punching bag to a pulp in his room, the fire that tells Harvey Mike’s ready to fight for as long as he has to. Harvey reaches out and wraps his fingers around Mike’s arms, spins them both and presses Mike’s back against the fridge. Harvey’s got half an inch on Mike at the most, but Mike almost stumbles backwards and now Harvey has a few inches. He stares down at him and Mike narrows his eyes and Harvey holds on.

“Why are you so hell bent on me fucking you?” he asks and Mike seems to deflate minutely. 

“I...” he starts, then shuts his mouth and pushes up against Harvey’s grip. 

“Don’t like it when the questions are fired at you, right?” Harvey says darkly and Mike glares at him, nostrils twitching as his blue eyes narrow menacingly.

“Fuck you,” he spits and Harvey lets out a small, bitter laugh. 

“I thought we were past this, Mike? Listen to me...and I can’t believe I am going to say this...sex isn’t the be all and end all. It’s also not the affection, the security, you’re looking for,” Harvey says and Mike stops struggling, looking up at Harvey through his lashes and Harvey feels lust coil in his stomach. 

“I want it,” Mike arches up and Harvey feels his thigh slide between Mike’s and Mike shifts and Harvey has to close his eyes to stop himself from rubbing off on him. 

“I don’t care,” he spits out and Mike struggles again, seduction gone from his actions, but Harvey knows it’s half-hearted because Mike could have him on his ass in two seconds flat if he felt like it. Harvey tightens his grip around the tops of Mike’s arms and pushes him back against the fridge again and Mike glares before he winds his fingers into Harvey’s shirts and drags them together, crashing their lips together hard enough that Harvey tastes blood. He unwinds a hand from Mike’s arm and presses it to the fridge, pushing himself away from Mike, and he catches the look of practically fucked out bliss on Mike’s face before anger crashes back and he’s striding away from Harvey. His bedroom door slams a few seconds later and Harvey sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. 

...

“Harvey...” Mike’s voice is tentative a few hours later, Harvey’s got his laptop across his knees and there’s soft jazz coming from the record player in the corner. Harvey looks up from his emails and Mike shifts in the door way. He’s wearing soft track pants and no shirt and his hair is slightly messy like he’s been running his hands through it. There’s a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead but Harvey hasn’t heard the distinctive sound of punching so he’s probably just been doing press-ups instead.

“Hey,” Harvey answers, looking back at the laptop, if only to stop himself from imagining the way Mike’s skin would feel right now, hot and damp, slick under his fingers, muscles moving under his fingers as Mike twists and writhes under him. 

“I’m sorry,” Mike says, pushing himself off from the door jamb and stepping into the living room. Harvey nods absently.

“It’s ok,” he says and suddenly Mike is in his vision. 

“I just get...” he shakes his head as if to clear it, crouching in front of him and lifting the laptop from his knees.

“Mike,” Harvey warns and Mike shakes his head again. 

“I wont...it’s ok...I just...” he trails off and Harvey holds his face in his hands. 

“You should get some sleep,” he says and Mike blinks slowly as Harvey runs a thumb across his cheek, “we’re doing more interviews tomorrow,” Mike rolls his eyes but leans forward enough that Harvey gets what he wants and he can’t help himself from giving it to Mike. He meets him halfway and presses his lips to Mike’s, brushing their noses together and Mike clutches at his elbows. 

“Night,” he mutters and Harvey kisses him quickly and lets him go. 

“Night kid.” 

...

A few hours later Harvey feels his bed dip and cold feet press against his. 

“You ok?” he asks.

“Can I...” Mike starts and even in the dark of his room Harvey can see the way his skin darkens with a blush, “can I sleep with you?” 

“Can’t sleep?” Harvey asks and Mike shakes his head, pressing his face into the pillow. Harvey winds his arms around him and tucks him under his arm, Mike’s back against his chest. “No funny business,” he says and Mike lets out a small laugh, edging on the hysterical and Harvey just clutches him closer. 

“Promise,” Mike mutters and before Harvey can answer, his breathing evens out and the tension drains from his body. 

...

The bill makes it through the First Reading. And Miraculously the Second One as well and every time they hear news from Anne, Mike seems to retreat that little bit more. Harvey would worry about him if he wasn’t fielding calls from Tabloids and crappy news channels, asking for The Man who’s making Indentured’s illegal.

From what Harvey hears, filtered through Donna obviously, most of the public seems to be on their side, and the ones that aren’t, the Jim Cleavers of this world, are Owners themselves, or at least benefit, somehow, from the antiquated system. 

Harvey’s in the middle of a meeting when he catches Mike hovering at Donna’s desk, biting his thumb nail and Donna keeps patting his hand and trying to get Harvey’s attention. He excuses himself from his clients and Mike jumps when Harvey puts his hand on his lower back. 

“What’s going on?” he asks and Mike looks at him with a mixture of sick apprehension and excitement. 

“It’s gone to Congress,” Donna announces when Mike seems to be incapable of speech and Harvey looks between them and Mike’s face splits into a tentative grin. 

...

Harvey takes Mike out for dinner to celebrate, and Mike’s excitement from earlier seems to have dissipated. 

“What’s up now, kid?” Harvey asks, pouring the rich red wine into the large glass in from of him. Mike shifts, his fingers playing against the stem of the glass. 

“What happens now?” he asks, putting his fork down after having speared a stalk of asparagus. He looks up at Harvey like he’s expecting Harvey to have all the answers. 

“Well if Congress decide it’s worth pursuing, then it will be passed to the President,” he says with a wry smile, trying to lighten the mood and Mike purses his lips before smiling slightly. 

“I know that,” Mike says with a roll of his eyes, and Harvey smiles back at him, Mike sobers, “I meant what happens to me?” 

“Well...you’ll be free,” Harvey replies and Mike chews thoughtfully on the asparagus. He swallows and takes a sip of wine then sighs. 

“What does that mean?” he asks and Harvey pushes his plate away enough that he can rest his forearms on the table. Mike drops his hands to his lap and looks down. 

“It means...” Harvey starts and Mike looks up at him again, blue eyes shining across the table and Harvey wants to kiss him, lick the taste of wine from his mouth and lose himself in Mike’s body. There’s a pleasant hum from a few glasses of wine under his skin and his eyes are drawn to the way Mike’s tongue flicks out against his lower lip. Mike frowns.

“You can’t tell me. No one can,” he says and there’s desperate anger creeping into his voice. The waiter is hovering around behind him and Harvey sends him off with a glare. “What if I like the security of being owned by you?” Mike adds quietly and he sounds so sincere that Harvey wants to cry for him. 

“Mike...”

“No...I know nothing else and you’re good to me, what the hell do I do when I don’t have you anymore?” he asks and Harvey wants to tell him things will be great, that he will spread his wings and fly and probably never look back, but Mike’s right, he knows almost nothing else, he’s indoctrinated now and that’s hard to break, no matter how good the promise of freedom may be. 

“Mike, I’m not going to throw you out if this gets passed,” he says and Mike seems to relax slightly, like that was the main thing worrying him, “you can still have your room at mine... _ours_ ,” Mike looks up at that, something flickers across his face when Harvey says ours and Harvey feels warmth in his chest as the word, “Jessica mentioned getting you a job doing something in the office if you want, there are people that are willing to help you,” he finishes and Mike frowns, stabs at a lettuce leaf on his side plate angrily. 

“I don’t want charity,” he sulks and Harvey lets out a snort, lifts his glass and sips at the wine. Mike glares. 

“You have nothing and no one Mike, accept help and stop being a child about it,” Harvey says with a finality in his tone that makes Mike clamp his mouth shut. Harvey resists the urge to smirk at him. 

Mike’s an Indentured. No matter how much he fights it, he’s been one for so long now he probably can’t remember how not to be and truthfully Harvey has been brooding about Mike’s freedom for months, and not just because he’s worried what the kid will do with it once he’s got it. But he’s gotten used to having Mike around, the gentle sound of his footsteps as he creeps up behind Harvey, the way his skin smells after he’s been working out, he’s gotten used to Mike’s warm hands and the way they seem almost tentative when they touch Harvey. 

He doesn’t want Mike to realise there is a hell of a lot more for him out in the wide world besides Harvey Spector. 

Mike sighs heavily and pushes his plate away and Harvey, even though he wants to finish his own meal at a leisurely pace just to piss Mike off, signals for the cheque, pays, and bundles a silent Mike into the back of the town car and endures the silent treatment the whole way home. 

...

Mike still crawls into bed with him at 3 am and presses cold hands to his shoulder blades and whispers “I don’t want to go anywhere” against his skin. Harvey turns and hooks a finger under Mike’s chin. 

“If I had my way kiddo, you wouldn’t go anywhere ever again,” he admits and Mike huffs, presses his forehead to Harvey’s chest and the way he shudders just makes Harvey pull him closer. 

...

Anne must have something on every single member of Congress. 

When the bill to make Indentured’s legal was passed onto the last President, he vetoed it, saying it was barbaric, it was handed back to Congress where a vast majority voted it back in, thus making it legal. 

Honestly Harvey had been worried that it wouldn’t have even gone to Congress, what with the high number of Congress members that actually owned Indentured, or partially owned, much like Racehorses. But it had gone to Congress and they had voted it through, somehow, and Harvey wanted to kiss Anne when she came to the office to bring him the news in person. 

“It’s my opinion,” she says, sipping at her coffee, “that the President will vote in favour of you,” she looks at Mike when she says that and Mike looks down at his feet, “you’ve got to stop doing that Mike, you’re nearly free,” she says and pats his knee. Mike looks up at her and smiles but Harvey can see the tightness in it, the way it doesn’t really reach his eyes. “I should go, I have things to do. But I will be in touch as and when I hear,” she stands and kisses Harvey on the cheek. Mike hovers behind and she pulls him into a hug and when she pulls back there’s a faint blush on his cheeks, “if he doesn’t vote in our favour, I know enough... _secrets_ to get people to vote for us anyway,” she grins and Harvey smiles back at her. 

“Ever think about running the country?” he says and she smiles enigmatically. 

“Congress runs the country Harvey, who do you think runs Congress?” 

“You and Donna should have lunch,” Harvey says with a smile and Anne just grins in return. 

...

It’s weeks before they hear anything and Mike retreats even more, he snaps at Harvey and barely looks at him and when he does, it’s with anger. 

Once or twice he’s tried to push Harvey into breaking his rules and fucking Mike, and Harvey’s resisted, pushing Mike further away until Harvey barely sees him unless they’re in the office. And even then Mike usually hides out in the Library all day and Donna glares at Harvey like he’s kicked her favourite puppy. 

The nights are a contradiction though, Mike still crawls into bed with Harvey, and Harvey pulls him close, calms the shudders from whatever nightmare he’s had, and wakes in the morning half hard and Mike is gone, waking just before Harvey to crawl out of bed and back to his own. It’s almost like he needs the proximity, but can’t bring himself to ask for it during the day, things are easier to ask for when no one can see your face. 

He gets that Mike’s worried about his future, Harvey’s worried about _his_ future with Mike. 

He’s brooding, again, about it when Anne calls. 

“Congratulations Harvey, you did it,” she says without preamble and Harvey nearly drops the phone. 

“We did?” 

“No, you did. Mike’s free,” she says down the phone and Harvey can hear her grin around the words. He sighs in relief, he hadn’t realised how much he’s been on edge waiting to hear the news until he now has it and it feels like a huge weight has lifted, even though another settles deep in his stomach. 

“Thank you, Anne,” he says and he puts as much sincerity in it as he can muster. She scoffs like its nothing. 

“There are still a few things to iron out obviously, but the President voted in your favour, I wrote off the lunch he owes me so that goes to you now,” she jokes. Harvey lets out a laugh, it doesn’t surprise him that Anne Stanton would be owed anything by the President of the United States. 

“Lunch, on me, for the rest of your life Anne,” he says and she laughs. 

“I’ll hold you to that,” she replies. 

“I have no doubt,” he says and she laughs again before she says goodbye and hangs up the phone. 

“He’s free?” Donna’s head appears in the doorway as soon as Harvey puts the phone down and he nods, mirrors her grin back at her. 

“He’s free,” Harvey says and Donna’s grin widens. 

“What the hell are you doing still here then, go tell him, take him home and fuck him,” Harvey nearly chokes and she just shrugs like she does whenever she knows something she shouldn’t and glides back to her desk. 

Harvey shakes his head. 

He should go and tell Mike, take him home and show him exactly what he’s been wanting to do to him since he first saw him in the ring, blood running from his nose and a bruise across his eyes. But the grown up, the righteous part of him, knows that this will be a shock to Mike, that he should let this sink in before he does anything. But then another part of him knows that Mike won’t let that happen. The pushy little brat will want what Harvey’s not sure he can give him, and he will want it as soon as Harvey tells him the bill’s been passed. 

He drops by Jessica’s office on the way to the Library, sticks his head round the door and tells her the news. She’s smiles in that elegant way of hers and waves off his “I’ll see you Monday morning” like she expected him to duck out of the office anyway. 

Mike’s practically folded in half in one of the chairs in the library, his head bowed over a book and Harvey takes a few minutes to watch him, the way his jaw tightens every now and then, the way he worries his bottom lip between his teeth and the little frown that wrinkles his nose. He seems to sense Harvey and looks up, a look of raw emotion passing over his face before he schools his features and looks blankly at him. 

“Mike,” Harvey takes a step into the room and Mike is on his feet in one fluid movement, twisting his hands together. 

“Don’t...I don’t want to hear it here. Can we...can we go...home?” he says, stumbling over the word home and Harvey nods. Mike sighs, relieved, puts the book back into the shelves and runs his fingers down the spine almost reverently before he’s walking towards Harvey. 

Harvey hooks his fingers under his chin and lifts his gaze. Mike avoids his eyes, like he knows he’ll see the answer there and Harvey doesn’t push it, let’s Mike go and bundles them into the elevator. 

...

Mike stumbles into the apartment, like he’s desperate to get in, because he wants to hear even though he’s got fear in his eyes and the way he twists his hands is nervous rather than excited. 

He had been quiet the entire car journey and Harvey is just bursting to tell him, to say anything to break the silence that seems to have settled between them. 

“Before we do...” Mike starts and Harvey cocks his head to the side. Mike swallows, takes a deep breath and starts again, “before you say anything I just want to tell you something and you’re not going to believe me but can you do me a favour and let me finish?” He grips at the counter, knuckles going white and Harvey wants to uncurl his fingers, press his thumbs into Mike’s palms and massage the tension out of them. He tugs his pants up and sits down on the couch, putting distance between them that he knows will let Mike finish what he needs to say. 

“I can do that,” he says and Mike spares him a brief, tight smile before lowering his gaze. 

“No one, apart from my Grandmother, has cared about me since I was 8, I’ve been beaten for others amusements, essentially raped, been starved nearly to death and I’ve killed,” he says it all so matter-of-factly that Harvey feels his blood boil and he stands. Mike looks up sharply and fixes him with a blank gaze, “and then you came,” he says and his words stop Harvey in his tracks. Mike uncurls his fingers from the counter and walks around it, reaches out to Harvey and lets his fingers play against the expensive silk of Harvey’s tie. “You cared, you didn’t touch me unless I made you or it was to look at cuts and bruises, you gave me hope, and no matter what the outcome of this I want to...” he stops and shakes his head and Harvey lifts one hand and covers Mike’s with it, “no I _have_ to thank you for that,” he says and looks up from their entwined hands to meet Harvey’s eyes. 

“Mike...”

“Do we need to have that conversation about you interrupting me again?” he asks with a slight smirk and Harvey raises an eyebrow, impressed that the kid has learnt how not to let emotions get the better of him, how to have a joke in the middle of a serious conversation when months ago he probably would have pulled his fist back and slugged Harvey in the jaw. “You’re a better man than you claim to be Harvey, and I can’t imagine my life with anyone else. I don’t want to,” he finishes and twists his hand, curls the silk around his hand and tugs gently. Harvey doesn’t go with it, just flattens a hand against Mike’s lower back. 

“You finished?” he asks and Mike frowns slightly. 

“Not yet...I love you,” Harvey lets him go and Mike reaches out like he expects Harvey to run, curls his other hand into the lapel of Harvey’s jacket and holds on tight, “and not the infatuated, Stockholm Syndrome, misplaced gratitude love of someone damaged , but that real _I am in love with you_ love,” Mike says and he looks so honest, so sure of himself that Harvey believes him. He uncurls Mike’s fingers and steps back and ignores the way his stomach turns at the crest fallen look on Mike’s face. 

“You finished now?” he asks and Mike nods once. 

“Yes,” he says quietly, and clasps his hands behind his back. Harvey keeps his distance, because this has to be about Mike making the choice to touch him now. 

“You’re free Mike. It passed, we did it,” he says and Mike looks like he’s going to pass out. His hand snakes out and presses into the counter and he stumbles slightly, sitting down on one of the bar stools. 

“What?” he looks pale and his eyes are wide and Harvey wants to touch him, wants to pull him close. 

“You’re free,” he says again and Mike frowns, bites on his bottom lip and it looks like he’s trying not to cry. 

“Harv...” he starts, stops, bites on his lips against and Harvey takes a step forward. Mike blinks at him and a tear runs down his cheek. Harvey stops it with his thumb, brushes it off his cheek. He sighs heavily thinking about how to phrase what he knows know he has to say. No matter if Mike decides he doesn’t want this, doesn’t want them, any more, Harvey still needs to tell the kid what’s been going on in his mind for the past months that he’s been living here. 

“Now I just want to tell you something and you’re not going to believe me but can you do me a favour and let me finish?” Mike smiles briefly at his mirrored words but he nods and swipes angrily as another tear rolls down his cheek. “Apart from Donna, Jessica and now you, I don’t let people in much. I’m arrogant, egotistical, solitary, a bit of a bastard and I don’t know how to live my life with other people in it. But I’m not sure I know how to live my life _without_ you in it anymore,” Mike looks up at him, hope swimming across his face and Harvey takes a step forward, steps into Mike’s space and Mike automatically opens his thighs and lets Harvey closer. “You’ve wormed your way in now and there’s no way I will let you walk out of that door. You’re free now but...” Harvey trails off and Mike lifts his head, presses his lips against Harvey’s and sighs into his mouth, like he’s been waiting to do that since Harvey bought him home, “I want you to stay...with me,” Harvey says and Mike lets out an hysterical noise that is half way between a sob and a laugh and pulls Harvey closer, kisses him hard and Harvey lets him do it.

“Are you finished?” Mike says, a little breathlessly once he’s pulled back enough to speak and Harvey grins, nods. 

“Yes,” he says and Mike slides off the bar stool and presses himself even closer to Harvey. 

“I know somewhere in the back of your mind you will still be worrying that I don’t want you, that this is some misplaced gratitude,” Mike says quietly, and he undoes the knot at Harvey’s throat and slips the tie over his head. “It’s not Harvey. And if it takes ages to prove that to you, then so be it,” he smiles slightly and pops the top button of Harvey’s shirt. 

“How did this become about you reassuring me?” He asks and Mike lets out a small amused noise, pops the next button and presses his lips to the hollow at the base of Harvey’s throat. 

“I’m free to make my own decisions now,” his breath is hot against Harvey’s skin, and he lifts his head with a smile and is so close he’s out of focus, just a blur of pale skin and blue eyes, “please don’t hold back anymore,” he presses his lips to Harvey’s and just holds them there, waiting for Harvey to take it further. 

Harvey pushes his tongue into Mike’s mouth, tugs him closer and Mike lets out a whine as Harvey winds his hands into his hair and angles his head back to lick at his throat. 

“Are you sure?” he pulls away enough to think, but his body is still pressed up against Mike’s and he can feel the heat coming through his shirt. Mike raises an eyebrow over half lidded eyes. 

“You’ve spent months being the good guy, waiting till I could choose for myself,” he says, running a hand through Harvey’s hair, “stop being a fucking martyr Harvey and fuck me,” he finishes with a grin and Harvey lets out a laugh and lets go of everything except his hand and drags him towards the bedroom, because he’s not doing anything so crass as fucking Mike for the first time over the kitchen counter.

“Well if you insist,” he says and Mike pulls his hand out of Harvey’s grasp, stops and shrugs his jacket off and that’s all the answer Harvey needs. 

“Don’t....don’t hold back ok?” Mike says, fingers at the buttons of his shirt, they shake slightly and Harvey raises an eyebrow, undoes his own buttons and slides the shirt off his shoulders. 

“Don’t think me holding back will be an option kid,” he says and Mike grins, pulls his shirt over his head and reaches out to Harvey. He curls his fingers into the waistband of Harvey’s pants and tugs him closer and Harvey cups his face between his hands, runs his thumbs over Mike’s cheekbones and Mike shuts his eyes, lets out a sigh as Harvey pulls him closer and kisses him. 

It’s like an instant reaction, Mike surges forward with a moan and presses himself even closer, tugging at Harvey’s hips and Harvey turns them, walks them backwards towards the bed and pushes Mike with a firm hand to his chest. Mike lands with an exhalation of air and an indignant glare and Harvey pops the button on his pants as he smirks down at Mike. 

“I hope you know what you’re getting into kid,” he says and Mike looks him up and down, props himself up on his elbows.

“I’m starting to think you’re all bark and no bite, _sir_ ,” he replies with a smirk and Harvey pushes his pants down and crawls over Mike. 

Back when Mike was scared and angry, would clasp his hands behind his back and respond instantly to commands, Harvey would have stopped this right now, but Mike smirks, shifts under Harvey in a way that’s totally designed to drive Harvey crazy, and there’s intent in his eyes and Harvey groans, leans down and covers Mike’s mouth with his own. 

“There needs to be less clothes,” Harvey mutters, reaching between them and undoing Mike’s pants. Mike groans himself, arching upwards as Harvey’s fingers skim over his dick still caught in boxers but hard already and pushes them, one handed, down Mike’s thighs. He pulls away enough to wrench them off and throw them over his shoulder and Mike looks up at him, eyes half lidded, blush against his cheeks and Harvey cocks his head to the side. 

“What?” Mike asks and Harvey shakes his head, running his fingers up Mike’s ribs, pressing them into the spaces between the bones and Mike shifts, breath catching as he drags a mouthful in. 

“When you first got here,” Harvey says, sitting up across Mike’s thighs and twisting a nipple between his fingers, Mike gasps and bites on his bottom lip, “you were all skin and bone,” his hands trace down his chest and he leans down to press his lips to Mike’s navel, “now,” he dips his fingers into the waistband on Mike’s boxers and tugs, Mike’s dick arches up towards his stomach, hard and flushed, a drop of precome beading at the tip, “you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Harvey licks a strip up the length of him. 

“I wasn’t....before?” Mike grinds out, fingers curling into Harvey’s hair and Harvey sucks the tip of his dick into his mouth. 

“You were,” Harvey replies, leaning back and pulling the boxers completely off and covering Mike’s body with his own, hands in Mike’s hair. Mike smiles gently and closes his eyes, arching into Harvey’s touch against his scalp, “but even more so now.” 

“Flatterer,” Mike mutters and Harvey presses his hips down, “one might think you’re trying to get into my pants”. Mike bares his throat and Harvey pulls soft skin into his mouth , sucks, worries it between his teeth and Mike wraps a leg around him and pulls him closer. 

“I’m already in your pants.” 

Harvey doesn’t do this with men often, once or twice when he really needs to fuck someone through the mattress and not be worried about hurting them, but he has a stash of lube next to the box of condoms in his bedside cabinet. Mike whines when he pulls away and he calms him with a hand on his chest and a murmured “relax”. 

When he settles back against Mike, all the bravado, the smirk and snark has gone and there’s a tiny amount of worry in his gaze. 

“You tell me to stop ok?” Harvey says and Mike nods, wriggles slightly and the smirk is back when Harvey groans. The lube is cold against his fingers and he sits up, wraps one hand around Mike’s dick to distract and presses a slick finger against Mike’s hole. Mike stiffens but relaxes almost immediately and Harvey pushes the digit in. Mike groans again, arches his body like a bow and pushes himself down against Harvey’s hand. 

“God,” he bites out as Harvey adds another finger and twists them both. His hands clutch at the duvet, fists balling the material and Harvey leans down, uncurls his hands from Mike’s dick and adds one more finger as he kisses Mike hard. Mike pants, gasps into Harvey’s mouth and wrenches his mouth away with a strangled cry when Harvey crooks his fingers and Mike’s own fingers slide across his slick shoulders as he tries to find purchase.

“Oh Jesus do that again,” he says and Harvey chuckles but does just that and Mike goes boneless under him. 

“Good?” Mike lifts his gaze and grins lazily. 

“You know it is,” he says and Harvey chuckles, pulls his fingers out and Mike winces slightly. Harvey sits up again, tears open a condom wrapper and rolls it down his dick, he’s rock hard and aching and Mike’s skin has a flush on it, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath and God Harvey wants, he wants it all and right now. He runs his hand down Mike’s thigh, under his knee and lifts his leg, settling between his thighs. 

“You sure?” he asks pressing the tip of his dick lightly against Mike’s hole. Mike nods, presses himself down until Harvey feels the tip sink through the first ring of muscle and he groans. 

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” Mike says, fingers pressing in Harvey’s hips as he pulls him closer, all the way in and rolls his body in a way that pushes Harvey even deeper. 

Mike’s tight, but not in a way that’s virginal, and he’s so fucking hot, his muscles contract, pressing in tight all around Harvey, his hands on his hips hot and slick and pulling Harvey deeper. 

“Fuck...Mike,” Harvey groans and Mike runs his hands around Harvey’s hips, presses his fingers into the dimples on his lower back. 

“Move Harvey...God please, do something,” he groans and Harvey pulls out nearly all the way and pushes back in.

“Feel so good,” Harvey does it again and Mike’s fingers twitch against his skin. He lifts a hand and runs his fingers over Harvey’s cheek. 

“Stop holding back Harvey, I’m not going to break...fuck me like you mean it,” Harvey growls, wrenches Mike’s hand away and presses it in the mattress above his head, does the same with the other one and curls his fingers hard around Mike’s wrists. Mike shifts and Harvey shoves back in hard enough that Mike grunts, hands tugging against Harvey’s strong hold. 

“Like that?” Mike looks up at him, blue eyes challenging but swimming with something else at the same time, something softer. 

“Like that,” he confirms and Harvey lets go, fucks Mike slow but hard and deep until Mike is writhing under him, straining against his grip and his dick slides across Harvey’s stomach every time he moves. Harvey could stay like this forever, pushing deep into Mike’s body, with Mike’s pulse thudding against his palm. He shifts and Mike stiffens, and his eyes fly open, “oh God.” 

“You going to come for me Mike,” Harvey groans out against Mike’s ear, flicking his tongue out and licking across the shell and Mike shudders, Harvey pushes in again, hits that spot inside Mike again and Mike cries out. “Come on kiddo...” Harvey wraps a hand around Mike’s dick and strokes once and Mike comes, body arching like a bow under him, hot and sticky against his hand and stomach. Mike’s muscles flutter around Harvey and it only takes a few more moments, one or two more thrusts before Harvey’s coming as well. 

“Well,” Mike says, breathlessly. His voice breaks through the roaring on Harvey’s blood in his ears and he lifts his head from Mike’s shoulder, “I knew I was missing out but I had no idea I was missing out on _that_ ,” he says with a wry smile and Harvey smiles and goes to roll off him, “no wait,” Mike says, tightening his muscles inside and Harvey shivers, “stay.” 

They stay like that for a while, Harvey still inside Mike, Mike’s come drying between them and Mike runs his fingers down Harvey’s spine, trails them back up and presses small kisses to Harvey’s temple. He has to move eventually though and Mike sulks a little, pushes his bottom lip out and Harvey sucks on it as he pulls out of Mike’s body. He collapses next to him and feels like he could sleep for a week. 

...

He’s lying there later, with Mike’s legs tangled around his, come still sticking on his stomach because Mike wouldn’t let him out of bed long enough to clean up, and Mike’s got his face pressed into Harvey’s chest and it occurs to him that this _kid_ in his arms, isn’t a kid, and is everything he’s been looking for. 

“Mike...” Mike shifts, lips sliding over his collar bone. 

“Hmmm?” 

“I love you too by the way...” Harvey says and Mike lifts his head slightly, stares at him with a small but incredibly genuine smile on his face, “but if you tell anyone I said that I will have to kill you,” Mike snorts, burrows closer to Harvey and kisses his throat. 

“I wont tell, promise,” he mutters, fingers trailing over Harvey’s spine. 

He’s asleep within minutes, his breathing evening out and his grip on Harvey relaxing slightly. 

They’re not scot free yet, there are still things to work out and Mike’s probably going to get a lot of crap for being an Indentured, but he’s got Harvey to fight legal battles for him now. And Harvey’s got someone worth fighting for. 

It’s not perfect but it’s pretty damn close.


End file.
